I Dream of Fangs
by as much fun as holding a gun
Summary: Currently being "revamped!" Aristocratic, temperamental, haughty, pompous... all words that could be used to describe Lacroix. Is it any surprise that his relationship is as complicated as his leadership over the LA kindred? Lacroix x oc.
1. The Dead Girl Preface

I Dream of Fangs

A Vampire The Masquerade: Bloodlines Fanfiction

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from Vampire the Masquerade: Bloodlines. I only use Lacroix for my own personal fantasies, like the cheap floozy he is.**

* * *

The first time I met the man named Sebastian Lacroix, I had awoken on the asphalt in the alley behind Big Lots N Stuff, where I worked nights. I did not remember how I had gotten there. Gravel dug into my back and the back of my head hurt where I had evidently slammed it into the ground on the way down.

When I opened my eyes he was staring down at me, sitting on his haunches at my side. He had the most intensely blue eyes I had ever seen on another person before. They were strangely illuminated in the alleyway, like stars set against the dim night sky.

Perhaps it was the flickering florescent light above the door to the building they were picking up light from, but we were at least 3 feet from there, and he was facing away from it. I couldn't figure how that could be.

Before long, he had opened his mouth, and my musings of how lovely his eyes looked were silenced by his ugly words.

"Get up," he snapped.

His piercing eyes disappeared for a moment and I felt his hands on my shoulders. I was lifted easily to my feet.

The alleyway spun around me, the dumpster, asphalt, brick building, all blurring together like they had been shoved together in a blender. I closed my eyes to the stranger, swaying.

"What happened?" I asked.

I needed to get inside, to lie down. Someone else would have to take care of the trash. When the dizziness subsided a little, I glanced over at the empty cardboard boxes and grabage bags stacked against the wall a few feet away. Maybe Shelly would get it.

The stranger was still staring at me when I tore my eyes away from the alleyway. He looked disheveled, the suit he was wearing torn in places. I gave him a few more moments to answer my question before turning to go inside.

As my fingertips brushed the metal doorknob, I felt a hand on my shoulder again stopping me from going any further.

I whirled around, "I'm sorry sir," I ground out, "But I'm going inside. I can send out the manager-"

"You cannot go in there," he said, effectively cutting me off. I noted his french accent and wondered if maybe this was some kind of cultural misunderstanding.

"I'm sick," I reiterated. Perhaps being honest would help the situation, "I need to lie down."

"You must come with me," he said.

A sudden bout of intense nausea crept up my throat, and I turned back towards the wall and pressed my hand against it to steady myself.

_No,_ _maybe not nausea_... but something else. Something was wrong. I just couldn't quite make out what it was. The feeling was getting worse by the second.

"Please," I whined, the raw quality of my voice surprising me. I had never quite heard myself sound so desperate before.

"I'm so _hungry_."

Hungry? No, that wasn't right. Why had I said that? I wasn't hungry.

"I mean..." I tried to correct myself but somehow I'd forgotten what I was going to say.

"I know," the man said.

The door in front of me swung open and a coworker's face appeared. It was the new girl, the one whose name I had never gotten the chance to learn. The florescent light behind her momentarily blinded me.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, glancing between me and the customer behind me.

I shook my head no.

She looked concerned, opening the door further, "You don't look so good," she said, "Maybe you should come inside."

It was then that I noticed the soft peach-colored skin of her breast, peaking out from under her low-cut shirt. It twitched when she sucked a breath in, and I watched it, fixated. I didn't notice the odd turn my thoughts had taken, so absorbed in the appearance of her skin I was.

I didn't even notice I had moved until suddenly I was on the floor of the warehouse. I had lept through the door, pinning her down in front of me, her face inches from mine. How did that happen? I wasn't sure. I didn't remember doing it.

She began squirming beneath me, making noises. No, not noises, words. They were words, I reminded myself. Funny that I would forget something like that.

I held her hands above her head to stop their irritating movement. She was scratching at me, trying to hurt me for some odd reason. I had never done anything to her. Why was she being so weird; clawing at me and making those noises?

I couldn't really make out what she was saying, but my eyes trailed lower from her mouth to her neck, where the twitching was strong.

There was noise behind me. Someone was pulling at me. I ignored it.

And then her neck was lodged in my mouth and I was tasting it. The skin was so much better than I had anticipated, a bright salty husk filled with the meat of her essence._ I can't hold back any longer, _I thought hazily.

I suckled at her neck like a infant, trying to find the spot where the blood would come out in easy thumps right into my mouth. I don't know how I knew it would, but when I found it, I sighed against her. My teeth bit down on that delicate tendril of blue vein, wrapping around her insides like a road map.

And then bright red was seeping to the floor, in my mouth and down my throat, down into her shirt, down into mine. Everywhere, it was everywhere. The slick nectar coated the floor beneath us in an ever-expanding puddle.

I couldn't stop until I was ripped away and dragged out of the store and back into the dark. My upper arms were being gripped so tightly it hurt. The pain cleared my head a little. Or maybe it was the full feeling of hot blood sloshing around in my stomach that woke my brain up from the trance it had been in.

I glanced into the open doorway, and my gaze landed on my coworker. She was just laying there, her entire upper body soaked in blood, unmoving except for the breath that shook through her every few seconds. Her eyes were filled with fright, the halo of blonde hair splayed onto the dirty floor around her head. She was watching us the way a wild deer would as it was being dragged into the forest by a wolf. She was afraid of me.

I lurched forward in the grip of the stranger and vomited red all over the concrete in front of me.

"For fuck's sake," I heard him say behind me.

And suddenly, violently, I was being dragged backwards away from the scene, my tennis shoes slipping on the gravel beneath my feet. I struggled against it, but to no avail. "Please," I sobbed, not really sure what I was begging for. I tried to look at the face of the person that was taking me deeper into the dark alleyway, but all I could see were the stars glaring down at me against the night sky.

* * *

When I awoke again, I found myself feeling much better than I previously had. The indescribable sensation in the pit of my stomach was gone, and instead I found a pleasing feeling of warmth had taken it's place.

I wiped my hand over my eye, rubbing the sleep out of it, but the feeling of cracking, peeling, blood made me immediately pull away.

I squinted at my hand. Blood had dried hard on it, brown and rough. Both of my hands, up my arms, my shirt, on my jeans, my mouth, face, neck. I closed my eyes, disgusted.

I was surely in jail by now. You don't grab people by the neck and assault them by ripping out their throat with your teeth and not be put in jail. In prison eventually. I would have to learn how to do it again to survive in prison. I would have to learn how to do it again. I didn't know what 'it' was, this disease, this... longing to _hurt _people, to see them bleed and then to taste their insides.

And I did want to hurt them. I remember the feeling of it, not malice exactly, but indifference towards the screams, the terror, the pain, the repulsion of seeing the innards of a person. I was like a serial killer. My humanity was all gone.

I wanted to sit there with my eyes closed longer and pretend that none of it existed, but the dried blood on my lips, between the cracks of my teeth prevented it. That was the only thing that propelled me into a sitting position, the overwhelming nasty irony rust smell, the taste and the desperation for water. I needed something to wash it away.

When I opened my eyes and looked around, I found myself not in a jail cell, but laying on a couch, next to a roaring fire. I sat up completely, running my fingers over the fine fabric of the couch. The room was massive, and the walls were decorated with what seemed to be gold plated molding outlining all the windows and doors. The floors were wooden, but were so shiny and reflective they seemed almost to be made of the same gold. For all it's luxuriousness, it was practically bare of furniture, save the couch and a desk facing away from the semi circle of tall windows.

Sitting at that desk was the man from the alleyway. He was turned away from me, towards the windows, holding a phone to his ear, his stature extremely tense. He was wearing a different suit now, this one a darker gray. His voice was getting louder and louder as he talked to the person on the phone and he seemed to be getting angrier and angrier.

"What do you mean it isn't there? What happened? Did it grow wings and flutter away out a window and into the sky?"

There was a brief pause in which the person on the other end of the line was talking into the phone at the same scathing decibel.

"Do not come back to this office unless you are a cadaver in a body bag, you insequential waste of time!"

He turned abruptly and slammed the phone down onto it's holder situated on the desk, silently seething.

I stared, unable to do much else.

As if he could feel my gaze upon him, he looked up at me with cold calculating eyes, jaw set tight, lips drawn together in a sneer. I found myself unable to look at him. In light of what I had just done, the promise of violence in his eyes made me very uncomfortable.

"You are awake," he said in a sigh, like I was just another problem to deal with before his night could be over.

I stared at the floor, tracing the pattern of the wood with my eyes, busying myself. I hoped that he could tell me exactly what had happened in the alleyway, but I doubted it. There was no easy explanation for my descent into madness. Why he hadn't handed me over to the police was baffling, but all the same I was grateful. I wondered if my coworker was okay. I would have to face her when I went back to work and I didn't know what I would say. Maybe I would still end up going to jail, I didn't know, and although I was still quite frightened, I felt more hopeful. Hopeful and eager to put the entire night behind me.

I heard the echoing clips of his footsteps and looked up again. He was walking towards me.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Juliet," I replied. My voice was croaky and I cleared my throat, suddenly aware of how tired I was. I wondered wearily what time it was. Probably close to 3 or 4 in the morning.

"Thank you for..." I paused, unsure of what to say, "keeping me unharmed," I finally decided, _and from harming others_, I thought, "while I was passed out," I gave him a weak smile.

He didn't smile back or really respond in any other way. His eyes bounced around from object to object on his desk, perhaps considering whether or not he should begin doing something else while we talked.

I had expected him to volunteer information about himself, but he didn't seem too eager, "Who are you?" I finally asked tired of waiting.

He decided on shuffling papers absently, distracted he replied, "I am Sebastian Lacroix, CEO of the Lacroix Foundation."

I couldn't help but think he looked a little young to be a CEO. He had high cheekbones but an otherwise very rounded cheek structure and he looked to be about 25, perhaps 30 at the very most. His voice and posture, however, demanded respect. He seemed intelligent, wordy and well versed in English despite the prominent French accent. He had bright red hair that was slicked back aside from a lone piece of bang that seemed to want to resist and curl inward towards his face. His skin was sallow, almost gray looking compared to the noticeably much warmer surroundings.

"I have a bit of bad news for you" he said, interrupting my train of thought, "As it happens you are now a cainite."

There was a short moment of silence in which if you listened carefully enough you could probably hear my brain short-circuiting.

"What?"

"A vampire, a member of the living undead," he continued.

I stared at him as if he gotten on all fours had begun barking like a dog.

"A vampire," I said incredulously after another moment of awkward silence.

He sighed, as if this were the very last thing on earth he wanted to be doing right now. "I understand how difficult to comprehend this might be for you," he continued in a rather bored, unconvincing tone.

That's when I noticed his teeth. Further back and only really noticeable when he drew his lips back, there were two pointed teeth, two _too_ pointed teeth. I felt my heart begin to race. This guy was obviously some sort of freak- the kind of freak that went out of his way to get realistic vampire teeth permanently afixed to his own.

As my brain spun into high gear, I wondered how many other more niave women he had brought here. I imagined that as handsome as he was and obviously rich, he could probably get them to do whatever he wanted. They would be terrified when he convinced them they were vampires. Admittedly, he was not very charming, but maybe they could bypass that.

This entire thing was beginning to look far too contrived. Maybe my coworker had even been in on it. And perhaps the hazy "feeding" could be explained too, in some way. Could date-rape drugs make a person believe they had done something like that? No wonder the "blood" had tasted good- it was clearly fake!

"Okay," I said with a self-satisfied smile, my voice sarcastic, "I'm a vampire now. I'm _so_ scared. What should I do?"

Mr. Lacroix gave me a long deadpan look, as if I were neither funny nor convincing.

"I would suggest you begin treating me with respect. I am your sire now, and the only person with the knowledge you will need to care for yourself. Unless you want a repeat episode of tonight," he said it as if it were something as basic as brushing my teeth and I was too stupid or too young to understand it.

I rolled my eyes.

"Come on, don't you want to fuck me? Isn't that your whole plan? Pretend you're a vampire and the stupid women spread their legs?" I had never been quite so vulgar before, especially not to an almost total stranger, but I was beginning to feel angry that he would put me through all of this for such a revolting reason.

For a while, I had actually believed I'd hurt someone. That girl had looked terrified, shaking, bleeding on the floor... I shook my head, clearing my thoughts. No, it was all fake.

His eyes narrowed, breathing quickening. He was beginning to look angry.

I swallowed and tried to regain my composure. Letting him see what an affect his overblown temper had was not going to help the situation. Besides that, he could be insane enough to be dangerous.

"Well, I hate to have wasted your time. Looks like you'll have to find another victim to play vampires with," I said, getting up from the chair. "Hope you don't mind me stopping in a bathroom to wash off the ketchup or whatever it is you used," I motioned to the red substance that coated me nose down, "Oh, and thanks for ruining a shirt. Really nice of you."

I didn't wait for an answer, just began walking towards the doors at the back of the room.

It wasn't until I was halfway across the room that he even said anything, and it wasn't much at that. Nonetheless, it had an immediate effect and I stopped dead in my tracks. I think anybody would've.

"If you leave this room, you will be hunted." His voice was cold and unforgiving.

Was he threatening me? I flung around on my heels. He hadn't moved an inch. I gritted my teeth together.

"Just stop already! Just drop it! It's over! I figured it out! So just let me go home unharmed and I promise I won't go to the police," I couldn't help the edge of desperation from creeping into my voice.

He looked a bit more angry at my outburst, a bit more violent if it was possible.

"Look at your own teeth," he said heatedly.

_What?_

I stared at him for a moment before slowly bringing my fingers into my mouth, ignoring the nasty taste of dried blood. I pressed my thumbs along the ridge of my teeth, and stopped at the canines amazed to find them sharp and pointed like his. I felt a prick and winced. They were so sharp in fact that they had cut my thumb. I stared at the drop of blood dumbly.

"Do you think I had a dentist come to fashion a prosthetic? Hmm? While you were unconscious?"

"I..I don't kno-"

He cut me off, "Look around this room!" He stretched his arm out in a sweeping motion, "I am one of perhaps 10 creatures in this city intelligent enough to create a net worth of over 5 million dollars. Do I look immature to you? Deranged?"

I shook my head no, if only to make him stop his frightening tirade.

"What about your..." he shook his head, apparently searching for the right words, "juvenile outburst?" he finally said, voice dripping with contempt. "Do you suppose that I _faked_ that child's innards as you ripped them out?"

I shut my eyes, willing his words away.

"You will _not_ leave this building, and risk both the masquerade and my reputation in this city. Do I make myself clear?"

"Fine."

"There is a restroom across the hall," he said, and his voice was much more subdued now, "Do not attempt to escape through the window unless you intend to kill yourself. We are many stories up."

I crossed the gap and pulled the doors that led out of that room open so forcefully, I heard them bounce against the rubber stopper on the wall.

I sat against the wall in the empty bathroom for the next hour before I could begin washing myself, too afraid to face the person in the mirror.

The idea of being human used to be so simple. I had never really thought about it much until the night I had become one of the undead. Humans lead such effortless lives. They breathe, eat, sleep and eventually and assuredly die. They are like beautiful monocarpic flowers that bloom once, and then right at their prime, fall limp.

Just that night, I had shoved my teeth into a woman. Reflected in her dark eyes was the horrible creature I had become. The way I looked at her, full of greedy hunger, was a look I never wanted to give another human being for the rest of my life, but it was not something I could avoid anymore.

Even despite the changes, I found myself thinking more and more about my humanity, the word rolling around in my head constantly in my first few nights alone with it. It sat heavily on everything I thought and did. Humanity.


	2. Like Humans Do

It was almost daylight when I was dismissed from Lacroix's lavish office. He did not accompany me out, instead leaving me to wander alone to the elevator. I found the front lobby without issue. As I walked toward the doors that led outside, I was surprised to find a very human security guard sitting at a desk behind a lighted neon sign that read LACROIX. I stared at it for a good twenty seconds before I turned to leave, the security guard eyeing me warily in response.

It was all suddenly very real. The fangs, the sign, the man...

Outside, just as he'd said there would be, a taxi was waiting for me. I got in, and without a word spoken to the driver, I was dropped off at an inconspicuous looking apartment complex. It was in the center of downtown Los Angeles, only about 3 blocks from the impossibly tall tower that he apparently owned. He was keeping close tabs on me.

When I turned to pay the driver, he simply shook his head, "It's been taken care of," he said, "Have a good night."

The key Lacroix had given me said 606, and so the sixth floor is where I went.

The apartment was nice, certainly better than anything I could afford on my salary at the store. My furniture, clothing, personal items, everything I owned was stacked in the middle of the living room, not even in boxes, just tossed to the floor. I felt oddly violated, uprooted, even though I didn't care _that_ much about the things. It was that it could be so easily removed in my absence that bothered me.

As I carefully walked through the place, trying to wrap my head around living there, I remembered my old apartment complex manager, an overweight and very overbearing woman, and wondered how Mr. Lacroix had gotten me off the hook for paying. Perhaps he'd just paid it in full.

I strongly considered leaving. There was no one stopping me... No guards stationed outside my door, no witnesses. I could disappear and I'd never have to deal with the haughty, irritating red headed man again.

I stood in front of the door for a while, and touched the doorknob in indecision.

Hadn't he said something about not going out during the day? Something about the sun? As much as I wanted to leave, I wasn't quite ready to die.

Still, to waltz out in the sunlight would be a sort of ultimate test to see if Mr. Lacroix was really lying about the vampire thing. Even after all that had happened that night, it still sat in the back of my mind. Paranoia pricked everything I did. I didn't want to be on the news as the poor shmutz that was too stupid to escape captivity by an admittedly rich and attractive, but nonetheless insane psychopath.

In the end, I was too tired and the bed was too inviting, and I fell asleep instead.

* * *

Time went by in odd spasms. It was hard to tell what day it was when I never had any human contact, and then eventually I stopped caring.

I spent every night from that point onward in his office, and every day in the apartment he provided for me. Like a newly broken foul, I accepted my reality.

I was not really all that surprised to find that the carnal hunger returned nearly every other night. The only way to sate it was to drink the red liquid in the clear bags stacked high in the fridge; the blood bags... I tried not to think of them as full of human blood, but in the back of my mind, reality lurked, threatening to swallow my sanity whole. By choice, I was drinking other people's gore, and I enjoyed the taste. I enjoyed the way it slid down my throat; the way it clotted in my mouth.

Mr. Lacroix told me that if I didn't drink them, I would go into a violent craze until I had obtained the necessary nutrients for my body to function again. A sick survival mechanism.

I wasn't quite sure what to do with myself.

I spent most of my time in Lacroix's office, eavesdropping on his meetings and phone calls. My presence didn't seem to concern him. In fact, he seemed to hardly notice, and did not acknowledge when I came and went. He was always there when I visited, and he was always there when I left.

The visitors to the office were often dressed in suits and ties, though not always, and they talked to Mr. Lacroix about things I had never heard of before. To glean some knowledge about vampire society, I listened carefully to their conversations.

An air of normalcy surrounded everyone, as if this was the thing to do. They checked their watches and adjusted their glasses and complained about traffic and they acted so very human that the fangs peeking out from between their lips when they talked could almost be overlooked. No one ever said the word _vampire,_ but the fanged visitors were the final conformation that I needed and I knew that to fake it would be too elaborate a plot for even this man to conjure.

Lacroix himself was a man whose pride constantly threatened to bubble over into arrogance. His temper was short. When he spoke, everyone in the room stopped what they were doing to listen. When he was angry, everyone did everything they could to appease him. They called him 'Prince.'

No one asked about me or talked to me. I was as essential as a painting on Lacroix's wall maybe. Or a thorn in his side.

* * *

Nearly an entire week passed before Lacroix said anything at all to me.. I had spent the night the way I spent every night in his office. I sat on the couch reading a book waiting for something more interesting to happen. I nearly dropped it in surprise when Lacroix's black slacks suddenly entered my peripheral vision. A large stack of papers was dropped into my lap on top of the open book and I struggled to keep them from fluttering to the floor in a big mess.

"If you insist upon being here, you will make yourself useful," he said.

I looked from the pile of papers up to his face and back again. I picked up the first paper on the stack, looking it over in confusion.

"What is all this?"

He watched me mull over the paper with an impatient sigh, "You are to fill these forms out detailing capital expenditure for the month of November," he seemed to pause a moment, "You did say that you had some secondary schooling, yes?"

I nodded.

"Good then."

He walked away, leaving me sitting there staring after him.

I spent the rest of the week doing paperwork, and though I was aggravated at first that he wanted to use me as an easy source of free labor, I was grateful to have some sense of normalcy in my life. The paperwork was something familiar; something I could rely on to be the same and it comforted me to have this little job. It gave my sad existence meaning.

Mr. Lacroix didn't seem to mind either. We finally had something to converse about, even if it was just an occasional question from me, or a compliment on a job well done from him. He readily slipped into the role of my boss and I found myself much more comfortable with that label than the other, more muddled label of sire.


	3. The Other Lacroix

For a man that was so self centered, Lacroix had an unusually successful ability for determining others' motivations. He could argue and demand and excuse himself out of a room with no doors. He seemed built for it, as if knowing people's shortcomings and using it against them was his personal manifest destiny.

And yet, despite so, he seemed to be blissfully unaware of his own shortcomings; his ego, which seemed to stretch to never ending proportions, his cold mistrust and assumptions of others. Manipulative, short-tempered, attention-seeking, Lacroix was not a likeable man.

I found myself studying him night after night under the bright office lights, as the moon waned and emerged out the windows behind him.

Why had he sired someone like me? The question burned in my thoughts with every careful word spoken between us. Almost my complete and total opposite, as I shrunk away from the strange vampires coming and going in his office, he invited them all to stare. He faced their opposition head on and I wanted nothing to do with it. It seemed all a deadly game of politics to me, and while Lacroix seemed right in tune with it, it confused and overwhelmed me.

Why would Sebastian Lacroix, an accomplished businessperson and leader of an entire city of mythical creatures want me as his sire? By the way he treated me, with an almost sarcastic, pissy edge to his voice, I thought that perhaps he didn't. Perhaps it was possible for vampires to accidentally sire another.

* * *

It was a couple of days later still, that things began to change for me.

It was a typical Tuesday night, just Lacroix and I doing paperwork together in silence when we were interrupted by a knock on the door of the office, which was something that almost never happened. People didn't knock. They were either expected or not. We both turned to look at it the doors in question, neither of us saying anything.

Lacroix's face betrayed his confusion. Whoever was at the door had obviously not been invited, nor had the officer downstairs warned us of their presence.

"Come in," Lacroix said and he shot a glance at the sheriff, standing rigidly in the corner. For the first time, I saw the sheriff do something besides stand stationary, his hand trailing down to the enormous holstered gun at his side. I swallowed.

A woman entered.

The large doors to the office swung open and a woman stepped in, her high heels clicking across the shiny flooring. She had fashionable business attire on and looked to be Lacriox's age, perhaps a bit older.

Lacroix relaxed his rigid stance and stepped around his desk to greet her.

"Eliza! What a surprise," he said. He smiled and it looked strange on his usually serious face. In fact, I think it was the very first time I'd ever seen him smile.

He slipped into a steady stream of elegant French then, and I could make out none of it.

The way he stood so informally while he talked to her was unlike him. I frowned. Who was this woman?

She couldn't be a business associate, that much was clear.

I was further baffled when they hugged, Lacroix's broad shoulders enveloping her petite form.

It had never occurred to me before, that Lacroix could have a girlfriend, but now that I thought of the possibility, I realized how much it would really bother me. I couldn't for the life of me figure out why it bothered me.

Maybe it was because, up until now, I thought I was the person closest to the cold Prince. Even if he barely spoke to me, I saw him nearly every day. And he'd sired me. I was still desperately holding on to the thought that maybe it meant something to him. He had made me like this, and deep down, I still needed to know that there was a point to it all.

Lacroix and the woman stood really close together as they talked. Their topics were superficial and light. I was in full panic mode by then. He was even touching the small of her back, like he cared about her_._ For some reason his affection made me sick. I'd never did like PDA in the first place, but she made it unbearable.

She was beautiful. It wasn't even the obvious I-had-to-get-up-at-3am-to-look-this-good beauty either. It was all natural. Her hair was in a low maintenance pixie cut which suited her face well. She had high cheekbones and full lips, and wore no makeup. She was tall, her skin was strangely tan for a vampire. Her cheeks were dusted with freckles.

As I slinked closer to the pair, she smiled at me. Her teeth were stunningly white, I noticed, and two sharp fangs poked out from the sides of her mouth.

Lacroix seemed to have realized I existed again and he turned ever so slightly, switching to English and inviting me into their conversation, "Juliet, I'd like to introduce you to Eliza Lacroix."

I was so surprised that he actually remembered my name, I almost missed the next part.

"She's my sister."

Instantaneous relief flooded me. How could I be so stupid? Of course he didn't have a girlfriend. No girl in their right mind would date such a narcissistic, dramatic…jerk.

And then, as I looked back at Eliza with fresh eyes, I felt really stupid because I should have known. I really should have.

Eliza Lacroix looked staunch and professional in a tweed suit coat and matching skirt. Like her brother she had blue eyes that were so pale they were very nearly gray.

She had much less of an accent than that of her brothers' which led me to believe that perhaps she had been in the United States longer. She seemed the only person in the world whose opinion Sebastian Lacroix held parallel to his own though he did not hesitate to correct her either, I noted as they bickered quietly in English, as human siblings do, both their voices playful and small smiles touching their lips.

All the little details I missed popped out at me. Like the way her hair was a much darker color of his, her eyes the exact same shade. They had the same high cheekbones and noses. They could've been twins for all their similarities.

She smiled at me again, and it was a real smile. Warm, informal, friendly… and suddenly, despite the similarities, she didn't look anything like her brother anymore.

"Its so nice to finally meet you," she said.

_Finally?_ I thought, wondering how long she had known about me. With a glance at Lacroix, I wondered who else he had told.

I held out a hand for her to shake, but she pulled me into a hug instead. I stiffened, and it took me a minute to adjust to the sensation of being hugged. It was a very human sensation, and I had experienced no friendly contact like this for so long. I sighed into her shoulder. She smelled faintly of perfume, something high end and not easily recognizable to someone like me.

She pulled back and looked at me, her pretty sapphire eyes having the same intense ability to see through to people's souls as her brothers'. She studied my face and seemed very concerned.

I wondered what she saw when she looked at me. A pathetic excuse of an office worker? Her brother's toy? A possible friend?

"How are you adjusting?" She watched my grim features doubtfully.

_Terrible_, I thought, but found myself unable to answer her. A thick lump was steadily building in my throat and I unsuccessfully tried to dam my despair. Think about something happy, I told myself, but I could come up with nothing. I began to panic. Why couldn't I come up with _anything_ happy? Was my life that pathetic?

When I didn't answer her, the expression on her face got steadily more concerned. She glanced at her brother, as I desperately tried not to cry.

All the sadness and fear of the past few weeks flooded me, and I felt the first few hot tears roll down my face.

Eliza helped enormously by shoving me into her torso again. At least now I didn't have to _see_ in my humiliation. I couldn't help the little hiccup and sobbing sounds I made, even though I tried to keep my volume level down. I was relieved when my sobs died down quickly. I felt like explaining myself, saying maybe that I was depressed, but I was too embarrassed.

She pulled me back again, out of her chest, "You must be so scared."

The tears receded and as I backed away, I noticed Lacroix staring at me uncomfortably. I felt mortified that I'd had a major breakdown in the middle of his office, and had cried all over his sister the first time I met her. I decided I should probably excuse myself before I could do anything else stupid, but before I could, Eliza interrupted me.

Eliza turned toward Lacroix, who was still standing several feet away, an uncomfortable grimace on his face. Her eyes narrowed and her face transformed from kind, caring, and sympathetic to pure angry.

"Sebastian!"

He actually flinched.

"This is all your fault!" Eliza said in a low hiss, "Didn't it ever occur to you that she needed _emotional_ support after all of this? You haven't changed at all!"

Lacroix sighed, running a hand through his hair. He looked weary, but his eyes were as intense and heated as ever. "I don't believe that is any of your concern," he replied.

"How is it not my concern when your own childe comes to me crying? Or did you forget that you sired her? Too busy?" Eliza asked sarcastically.

"This topic..." he hesitated, eyes flicking back to me, "is closed for discussion."

"Well fine then," Eliza picked up a pen from his desk and took my hand in hers. She wrote a phone number across my palm in dark blue ink.

"Call me," she said, her voice soft, "You're part of the family now."

She briefly checked her watch and her voice changed again when she turned back to Sebastian, "I have an appointment at nine. I'll talk to you about this later," It sounded like a threat.

She clipped out of the room at a quick pace. The doors shut with a slam behind her.

"I'm really sorry," I said after a few tense, silent moments, "I didn't meant to do that."

Though I was grateful to Eliza for recognizing my depression, I hadn't meant to push the two of them into a fight. I was uncomfortable with the idea of anyone fighting over me.

Sebastian sighed in response, "No," he said, "She is right, as she always is," he sounded a bit sarcastic, but no emotion showed on his face. I smiled at his dry sense of humor.

He offered me a cautious, but genuine smile back.


	4. Working for Lacroix

Lacroix asked me to join him for breakfast, because by that time it was nearly morning. I agreed. It seemed I wouldn't be going back to my apartment any time soon.

We sat downstairs in the vast, overcrowded cafeteria. The windows had been blacked out and I was weirded out to see so many people, both vampire and human. It was baffling. I had known there were other people working for Lacroix, but I hadn't known how many. And I hadn't known they all worked here, in this building. Though, I suppose, it was rather stupid of me to not think that. Where else would they be?

They all seemed incredibly happy to see him down there eating with them. They stared at us and smiled, like he was royalty or something. Despite the cafeteria being packed nearly to the brim, everyone gave us a wide berth, leaving the tables around us unfilled. It seemed Sebastian Lacroix's temper preceded him everywhere he went.

It was so odd to be sitting at the small round table with him, and I felt incredibly uncomfortable. It felt so... informal. I busied myself with looking around at things and people. I wondered what the hell we were going to _do_ exactly for breakfast. Could we really break out the blood bags in front of all the humans?

As it turned out, we didn't eat anything at all. A chef showed up at our table with two bagels and the plate of food sat between us the entire time we talked. Like the elephant in the room, neither of us looked at it nor touched it. I had the odd urge to pick one of the bagels up and eat it, and my stomach even grumbled in response. I figured it was a psychological response left over from my human days and luckily Lacroix didn't seem to notice.

Lacroix asked me to recount my human life for him, and I did.

I told him about my old job. Though crappy, I had made many friends there, and enjoyed convincing people find overpriced trash to buy.

I told him about my adoptive parents, kind and supportive people, though my father tended to drink like a fish at times.

I told him about my ambitions to be a lawyer, if I could ever get through my first year of college.

And by the end of it all, a frown had found its way on my lips, and I was quiet.

"I'm afraid I don't have much advice to give you regarding your transition to your new life," he said, without so much as a speck of empathy in his voice, "It has been nearly 200 years since I have had to deal with that particular nuisance."

He regarded me nonchalantly and I tried not to lose my shit.

That would make him from the 1800's. I wasn't exactly a history major, but I was vaguely aware that people in the 1800's in France were a lot more... cultured than I could ever pretend to be. I swallowed and tried not to stare at him or gasp or do anything that would be considered rude. How many things had I already done to offend him? Probably thousands.

He must have caught my bewildered expression because the corners of his lips twitched upwards in the ghost of a smile. Ever eager to talk about himself, he began explaining that he'd been a general under Napoleon and how he'd clawed his way up the ranks of the Camarilla. He'd worked _closely _with Napoleon, mind you.

"Wow..." I said when he was finished, "I um... I've never met anyone who is 200 years old before."

"Of course not," he said, looking at me like I'd just admitted I was a complete and utter idiot. We sat in awkward silence for a minute or so.

On the other hand, maybe I shouldn't care whether I offended him. He was kind of an arrogant asshole, so I wasn't sure how much of his initial schooling in manners mattered anymore.

"As my childe, you will be acting as a representative for both my company and all of the Camarilla," he finally said.

I wondered what his response would be if I asked if I had to, but I decided against it and just nodded.

"You will need to dress the part," he glanced down at my shirt pointedly and I followed his gaze to my sweatshirt. What? Did he not like the Lakers? In all honesty, I didn't really care either way about them anyway. It was something that my father had given me.

"What should I wear?" I asked.

"Business casual," he replied, like that answered anything.

I bit my lip, and decided not to tell him I had never worn anything like that before.

He took a small card out of his pocket and held it out to me. It was a shiny black credit card with his name on it in silver lettering. I looked at it, and wondered if maybe he was trying to make a point or something. I'm so special, my credit card is shiny and black? Maybe one day if you work hard enough...

He was beginning to look exasperated. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand and sighed.

"_Take _the card," he told me.

"Why?"

"You cannot be serious," He looked at me like he couldn't believe I didn't know what to do with a credit card.

I frowned, feeling myself blush, "What I mean is why do you want me to buy clothing with _your_ credit card?"

"You no longer are registered with a bank," he told me frankly, "In fact, you are no longer alive at all as far as the government is concerned."

"Oh," I mumbled, finally taking the card from his outstretched hand. So my parents thought I was dead. Lovely.

"In addition, as my representative, you will be expected to join me in meetings and take notes, and meet with various vampires in the city. Do not speak unless spoken to or offer any sort of opinion on anything. There is a myriad of people for you to offend, I assure you."

"Okay," I agreed warily.

* * *

That night, Eliza called the phone in my apartment, which I hadn't actually known was there until it rang. It scared me so badly, I was sure my heart was going to start beating again.

I found out that she had been so in tune with my feelings because Sebastian had been the first person she'd gone to when she had been sired by an ex lover. Bad idea.

Apparently upon arriving back home she had been so distraught about the breakup, she hadn't even noticed the biological changes. Sebastian locked her in a bathroom for 3 days while she wailed and refused to drink blood. He'd told her he'd let her out when she was 'reasonable.'

She'd been sure was either in some cult, and was going to kill her, or had simply lost it. And seeing it from her point of view, I couldn't really blame her.

This was a long time ago. But she said she didn't think he'd changed much. I said I couldn't see him doing that now, but it was a lie. I totally could.

* * *

The next night was the first night Lacroix sent me out to run an errand. It was the first real important thing he wanted me to do, he said. All I had to do was meet with a vampire by the name of Therese Voerman and deliver a letter to her. The letter was super duper important. It was an invitation to a trial that was being held the next night, and if I lost it, I was assured that I would never get any other assignments like this one.

I considered losing it on purpose, just to get out of any future "assignments," but Lacroix seemed extra temperamental that night, and I decided that might not be smart after all.

I was driven to Santa Monica, and I looked longingly at a sign that told passers by which way the beach was as I passed it. I wondered if I would ever be able to do anything normal ever again, or if I would be stuck delivering letters for Lacroix for the rest of my apparently very long life.

I entered the club, and immediately cringed at the volume of the music playing. It was a nice place and everything, and admittedly, a cool place for a vampire to hang out, but clubs had never been my scene.

The fat tattooed barman had said I was welcome to wait- and why not? I couldn't think of any good excuses to not sit at the bar and pretend to drink a beverage with a fancy Spanish name I couldn't remember.

Besides, since I'd began working for Lacroix I hadn't had hardly any time to people watch. A sad hobby, but one I'd missed nonetheless.

The bar was packed full of teenagers in black garb, piercings covering most of their faces. I must have looked so out of place with my new fancy, overly-priced business attire. I realized that later. My entire wardrobe, and the fact that I was a vampire, must have screamed Lacroix.

But I didn't think about it at the time.

I was just another person at a bar full of drunk uncivilized humans. I hadn't expected other vampires to be there.

I nearly violated the masquerade when one sat down next to me.

The vampire was a guy, with dark spiky hair, a five o clock shadow and beautiful eyes that were a hybrid of blue and grey. They reminded me of Lacroix's, except without any of the...haughtiness.

He was wet looking. It must be raining, I thought with a sigh.

"Busy night," he said, running a hand through his hair.

"I guess," I said. "I've never really been here before. You come here often?"

His smile was charming, even despite the fangs, "I'm a bouncer."

"Oh," I said.

"What's your name?" he asked, and I felt his eyes curiously sweeping my attire.

"Juliet," I said immediately, finding myself unable to lie to this attractive stranger, "and yours?"

"Jesse."

He inspected what I was 'drinking' wearily. "I'd ask if I could buy you a drink, but…" He squinted at me, as if trying to figure something out.

"Don't worry," I said, guessing his concern. "I'm not really drinking it."

The friendly, at ease smile came back again.

We talked for a while. He was interesting, this Jesse guy. I was intrigued, having a good time.

When the whining techno music changed to something more bearable, I didn't think twice when he asked me to dance.

And then the bartender told me Therese had called me up to see her. About time, I thought, 50 minutes later.

We said goodbye and I got on the elevator to give the letter to Therese. I literally handed it to her and before I'd said a single word, she shooed me out. I shook my head. So much for an important, difficult assignment. As I got back into a taxi, I decided that Lacroix had been sarcastic when he'd said if I couldn't do this, I wasn't going to be allowed to do anything else.


	5. The Trial

It was only by accident that I met Nines Rodriguez.

It was the night after I delivered the letter to Therese Voerman. I was sitting in my underwear watching reruns of Lost. I wasn't exactly watching it for the show, more for the hunky lead guys who never wore shirts.

I was just about to get a blood pack to suck my way through (guess you can't ever escape binge eating, even as a vampire) when my doorbell rang.

I grumbled angrily to myself and paused the T.V. "Who is it?" I yelled half heartedly at the door.

A very familiar French accented voice answered.

If my heart had still been beating, it would have stopped.

I had no idea what he said, in all my shock, all I could form was a string of expletives and Sebastian Lacroix. At my house. And I have no pants on.

I sat stunned like a complete idiot for a good 20 seconds before the angry yelling got through to me.

"Uh yeah! Hold on a sec!" I called as I scrambled to find pants, any pants at all. Unfortunately the ones lying closest were PJs with little embarrassing hearts on them, but they were better than underwear, I supposed. I ran a hand through my hair, unlocked the door and flung it open.

There was Lacroix, in the flesh, dressed regally in his usual suit and tie.

I nearly died.

He invited himself in, I guess, because he pushed past me and inspected my apartment with a scowl.

"Why are you not answering my emails?" he demanded.

"Sorry." Why did I have to piss him off now, just when he'd decided to start tolerating me?

"What was it that was so important that you could not be bothered to amble over to your laptop, a mere ten feet away, at most?"

He looked around suspiciously. I wondered what he'd expected to find. Me dead? Oh yes, he was at the very top of my priorities list. The only way I wouldn't be answering his godlike emails was if I had been murdered.

How typical.

"Sorry, I was watching T.V." I said, embarrassed. I hoped he didn't notice exactly what I was watching, but he probably did because I'd paused on a picture of one of the shirtless lead guys.

My cheeks flushed with heat.

He narrowed his eyes at me, clasped his hands behind his back and stalked away from me, toward the kitchen.

"You wouldn't object to me looking around?" It wasn't really meant as a question. He was going to do it whether or not I consented.

"What are you looking for?" I asked, completely confused at his strange behavior. His head disappeared as he peered into the bathroom.

Did he think I stole something? What? I figured it must have been pretty important if he'd actually come himself, instead of just sending one of his cronies.

He didn't even answer me, instead heading up the stairs.

I followed him up the stairs, trying to keep my temper in check but this was getting ridiculous. The idea of him going through my stuff made me more than a little uncomfortable.

"If you aren't going to at least tell me what's going on, then you can leave," I said.

My tone must have stricken him as disrespectful because he turned to me at the top of the staircase and his gaze was murderous, "You forget your place."

Despite his deadly serious tone, I almost laughed, "My place?" the words came out before I could stop them, "This isn't the 1800s! Just because you have the title 'prince' doesn't really make you royalty!"

Sebastian turned a light shade of purple.

Aw, what? The truth hurt?

"I could have you killed. Do you understand that?" he said, his voice was rising in tempo like he couldn't control it anymore. He leaned forward, his breath cool on my face.

I had to sober up at that point. Because he looked serious, like he would kill me, like he might even enjoy it.

Like he might even do it himself, right here.

I watched in a horror filled daze as his hand gripped my throat, painfully tight. I knew that if he'd wanted to, he could kill me. He could snap my neck in two.

I didn't need to breathe, but old habits die hard I suppose. I gasped for the air that had only benefited me as a human. I think it was mostly the panic.

Then he released me and pushed me away in the same motion. I stumbled backwards and crashed into the wall. I tried to think clearly, but it was hard. I was dizzy and still heaving from being choked.

"You're lucky," he spat, "I should kill you for what you did."

I rubbed my throat tentatively, wanting to reply, but was unable to. My throat felt raw and bruised, and I was pretty sure my vocal chords had been damaged.

How could he kill me for something when I didn't even know what it was I'd done?

He turned away from me suddenly and strode into my bedroom. He tore through the closet, checked the bathroom. He even got down on the ground and looked under the bed. Sebastian looked even angrier now that he had not found what ever it was he'd wanted.

He turned to me, looking at my PJs skeptically. "Get something more decent on." His tone still radiated with anger, but it was subdued, forced out of his voice.

"No!" I cried hoarsely, "I want answers!" You can't just storm into my apartment accusing me-"

He cut me off.

"We will discuss this at a time that I see fit. This" he swept his arms around the room, "Is both an inappropriate place and time."

"Oh is it?" I asked sarcastically.

"_You Will Get Dressed And Meet Me Ouside_,_"_ he said forcefully.

My head buzzed with the domination.

"I will get dressed and meet you outside." I heard myself repeat.

He left me standing there.

I did what I was…er.. forced to quickly. I would get my answers, even if I had to put up with his bullshit first, and even if it risked my life.

A huge black hummer was parked outside my apartment building. Its windows were blacked out like a limos. One of them rolled down with a mechanical whir revealing Sebastian's face.

"Get in," he said, his tone short, and the window rolled back up.

I sighed and decided I really had no choice.

All of the seats in the car were taken by big men with guns, except the one beside Sebastian, and the seat ahead of that, where Eliza waved excitedly at me. I hesitantly got in the one beside the angry prince.

Eliza twisted around in her seat to smile at me, "Isn't this exciting?"

The blank look on my face must have alerted both of them that I didn't know what was going on.

"Do you forget everything I say or do you just omit it from you thoughts entirely?" Sebastian asked sarcastically, as calmly as he could manage.

Eliza glanced between us in confusion.

It only took me a second to recover, remembering something he'd told me about the trial we were attending.

"The trial today? Yes, I know," I said, my tone echoing his.

Sebastian hmphed and crossed his arms, which looked ridiculous.

"What's gotten into you two?" Eliza asked.

"Wouldn't I like to know," I answered pointedly.

"Do you have any sense of control? Can you wait until it is feasible to discuss this or will that be too much effort on your part?" His words were harsh and loud in the silence of the car.

I shut up and looked out the window the rest of the way there.

The car stopped at a large courthouse in Hollywood. As I stepped out of the car, I thought I heard a moan of pain somewhere in the distance… a shiver ran down my spine. There was something eerie in the night air here.

Eliza led me away from where I was standing, peering down the alleyway. I swore I could see someone… or something…. stumbling around, but it was too dark to tell.

I hadn't even noticed that Sebastian had disappeared, along with the body guards.

Eliza's hand on my back redirected me to the front of the courthouse. She'd been talking the entire time and now I felt bad for not listening.

"There hasn't been a trial like this in centuries!" Eliza was saying, her gray eyes sparkling with excitement. We went up the many steps and entered.

"What'd you mean? People break the rules all the time.." I knew firsthand because I did their paperwork. There was at least 2 or 3 a week.

Eliza paused in midstep, "But not people like this. The woman's an advocate for all things Camarilla." She leaned close to my ear, her voice low, "Some people say she was on the waitlist for the primogen."

We walked quickly, in a hurry after that. I realized from the rumbling of voices inside the courtroom, that we were late. We quietly slipped in the back row.

I looked around trying to recognize people, but I only saw a few. Mostly people I was asked to invite running errands for the prince. A few people looked angry. One man was sitting rigidly in his seat. I heard the harsh whisper of cuss words in a conversation with the woman beside him.

Then the courtroom began to quiet.

On the raised stage, two vampires were dragged out, and unstaked.

I hadn't expected it for some reason, but Lacroix appeared on the stage next.

"Good evening my fellow kindred," He began with the introductions, and then apologized for dragging everybody out there.

Beside him the vampires, on their knees, hands tied, squirmed.

The woman looked fairly average, if angry. Dark brown hair, nondescript clothing. She did most of the squirming. I couldn't tell her clan.

The man beside her had hair an unnatural shade of bleach blonde. He looked confused, dazed. His eyes darted around the room in search of answers.

I shivered when they met mine.

Beside me, Eliza leaned forward in her seat.

Sebastian began his speech about siring. He didn't look angry, as he had in the car. His voice was impassioned, but also practiced. There was a thick mask over his emotions. His stage presence was really remarkable. He was by far the most charismatic person I'd ever met, I decided.

I listened closely to the siring bit.

The girl on stage struggled as Sebastian began explaining that she was to be killed.

He looked thoughtful as he talked about the law. Regretful, even.

The he bent down, close to the woman.

"Forgive me," he said.

I almost didn't believe it when the sheriff lifted his enormous sword over the woman's head. There was a sickening squish sound and a thump as her head rolled onto the stage. I must have gasped aloud because Eliza turned her ever-concerned eyes on me, and several people glanced at me across the aisles.

"Which leads to the fate of the ill begotten progeny…" Sebastian went on, unperturbed.

He explained how doomed this childe apparently was without a sire, and the audience began murmuring loudly.

The angry, dark haired man sitting rather rigidly in his seat during the entire trial suddenly bolted up. "This is bullshit!" he yelled.

His friends beside him urged him to sit down.

Sebastian looked thoughtful, gazing out over the crowd in speculation. His gaze paused a moment longer on me than the others.

"If Mr. Rodriguez would let me finish… I've decided to let this kindred live."

Eliza turned to me, eyes wide, "That's weird," she said under her breath, "He's never bent the rules before. He lives for rules."

I turned to watch him finish his speech, considering what Eliza had said. It seemed obvious to me that this Rodriguez guy had been the cause of his decision, but apparently Eliza had a different take on it.

As the trial came to a close, everyone in the courtroom dispersed. I followed Eliza out the large wooden doors. She motioned to the dark cafeteria. "Wait here," she said, looking distracted, "I'll be right back, promise."

I tried to protest, but she quickly escaped out the front doors to the building.

I sighed and sat down at one of round plastic tables. The chair squeaked against the linoleum as I slid it out.

The silence was stifling, only the hum of the pop machines in the corner eased it.

I tried humming to myself, but then I remembered how bad I was at singing.

There was a door at the end of the cafeteria, lit by the bold fluorescent exit sign. A place for smoke breaks.

I wondered if anyone would mind me just going out for some fresh air. I mean, technically I was still in the cafeteria…

I looked around nervously.

I got up quickly. This would only take a second.

I nearly ripped the door from its hinges and stepped out into the cool night air. Somewhere a police car whizzed by, its sirens on full blast.

I was at the back of the courthouse, I realized.

And it wasn't any less creepy out here than in the quiet cafeteria.

I guess the real reason I was so freaked out was that I had witnessed the death of that vampire, and to be honest, it disturbed me. Thinking of that vampire's…head… on the floor... I felt slightly sick.

I took a few deep breaths of fresh air, and then decided maybe I was safer in the cafeteria after all.

I pulled at the handle on the door.

It didn't budge.

Fuck. I should've known. Of course they'd lock it from the outside. It was the middle of the night. Not exactly considered normal office hours.

I sighed and leaned against the glass dejectedly. Now I'd have to go all the way up to the front of the building. Great.

A sound made me pause.

A familiar sound. That strange moaning, low and throaty that I'd heard in the alleyway. I listened hard. It sounded…it sounded like it was coming from the cemetery. I took a hesitant step toward the big cast iron gate…

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

I whipped around.

It was Rodriguez, the guy who'd yelled in protest at the trial. He was leaning against the wall, holding a cigarette between two fingers.

I put a hand to my cold chest, "Sorry I.. You scared me." I stuttered.

"Yeah," he agreed watching my stricken expression, but didn't apologize for it. He flicked cigarette ashes on the ground.

"Haven't seen you around…" His words were casual but his eyes were intense and curious.

I knew this guy was an anarch, and he _hated_ the prince. I was Lacroix's childe, which probably made me…well, a prospective punching bag at the very least. It would be easy enough. We were all alone out here, and the door had us locked out.

I had two choices. I could tell the truth and get the shit beaten out of me. Or I could lie. I could lie my ass off and save my life.

A few seconds passed, crickets chirping in the night air.

"Uh…yeah. I'm new in town." My voice shook and I hoped he would buy it.

He seemed to take my weird behavior as a continuation of my previously being scared, not of my lying to his face.

"You seem jumpy." He dropped the cigarette and crushed it to the ground with his shoe. I backed up a little, imagining the cigarette as me.

"Did you see something strange?" his eyes scanned the darkness, then rested squarely on the cemetery gates.

I decided that if something weird was going on out there, I didn't want to know about it.

"No," I answered, hoping to change the subject. "It's this trial. I can't believe Seb-er...Prince Lacroix killed that girl." I couldn't keep the shock and sadness out of my voice. I'd never seen anyone die before that night.

Rodriguez stared at me long and hard, without saying anything. He looked angry, but then again, he'd looked angry the entire night.

"That's not the worst of it. Lacroix thinks he's got the whole city eating out of his hand. Well, not me. Why don't you come down to the Last Round sometime and I'll show you what I mean…The names Nines, by the way."

I held out my hand for him to shake but he only lifted a bushy eyebrow at me. I quickly dropped it to my side, "Nines…like the number?"

He nodded absently, like he'd heard _that_ joke before.

"I'm Juliet."

"Juliet, like in Romeo and Juliet?" he asked, looking amused.

I smiled, "Not really, no."

There was a sudden bang from a shotgun, and we both turned in the direction of the noise, behind an alleyway somewhere. I heard him delicately sniff the air. "Humans," he muttered to himself.

"I'd better get going," I said quietly. I was sure Eliza was looking for me by now, and I didn't want to piss both the Lacroix siblings off at once.

"It was nice meeting you," I added, just to be sure he'd heard me. He was kind of spacey.

"Yeah," he agreed, "You too."

I turned and took the alleyway furthest from the noise. I was back at the front of the building in a few feet.

Conspiring with the anarchs… I smiled wickedly to myself. If only Lacroix knew what his precious childe were up to.

Ha. Precious.

More like completely replaceable.

The car was parked in front of the courthouse. Eliza was pacing around it looking anxious. When she saw me her eyes widened and she smiled, "Oh thank God! Where'd you run off to?" She looked suspiciously at the alleyway I'd just come from.

"I got stuck outside." I shrugged, "sorry."

"Well Mr. Panties-in-a-bunch is waiting, impatiently, might I add, so we better go."

I laughed, and was glad it appeared she was taking my side in this.

"Oh, and look sad," she added, "I'm supposed to have yelled at you."


	6. Reasons Revealed

The thing about fighting with Sebastian is, you don't win. Even if you win. Even If you killed him, I bet his corpse would sit there laughing at you, 'haha you loser.' Except with a French accent.

So I was sitting there in the backseat of the Hummer, trying to look sad like I'd just been reprimanded. And Sebastian, the bastard, was looking pretty smug. In his mind, no doubt he had won the whole fight. In his mind, he won everything.

But I could see that this was only a small part of the fight. There was more to come, as he'd promised me. He would explain his weird breaking into my house screaming and yelling, and it was going to be soon, or so help me god I would rip his…

Eliza's voice rudely interrupted my thoughts of violent revenge.

"I'll get off here," she said, and the car rolled to a slow stop.

"Bye Sebastian," She leaned across the seats and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

He looked appalled.

I shook silently with laughter.

Eliza shut the car door. She grinned wide, and waved us off.

The car was silent after that. Deadly silent. Without Eliza's cheerful presence, the tension in the air was free to rise to the surface. Sebastian looked out one window, and I the other.

Worst car ride of my life.

As soon as the car had stopped in front of the Lacroix Tower, Sebastian got out and slammed the door behind him before I could move a muscle.

Okay, so he was still a little mad.

I watched him fling the door to the building open and slam it with a wince.

Okay so he was really mad.

But what the fuck did he have to be mad about? I still didn't know! I should be mad. He was the one who came into my apartment, and tried to kill me.

I got out of the car and marched after him, determined to get in the same elevator.

I had to run to catch it, but I did. I proudly shoved my arm between the closing doors of the elevator Lacroix had gotten into.

I stepped in beside him, "Not going to wait for me?" I asked, looking mock-hurt, my voice oozing with sarcasm.

"Juliet." My name was harsh and demeaning on his tongue. It was the tone an angry parent might use on their two year old.

"I see you're talking down to me again," I responded icily. I didn't dare to meet his gaze, instead inspecting the numbers lining the elevator buttons, with a cool, non confrontational stance.

I heard him sigh, and the elevator dinged. I stomped out and flung open the large doors to his office. I could hear his footsteps behind me. Halfway between his desk and the doors, I paused and turned, blocking his route.

He gave me an irritated look, nearly running into me.

"We're talking," I demanded, making my voice as hard as possible. Which wasn't very... He was close enough to strangle me again, if he wanted to. I swallowed. I had to be more careful with what I said.

"Fine then," he waved me off as if I were an irritating fly in the room.

I slowly complied, stepping out of the way.

He settled in his chair, shuffled some papers and looked up, finally. "Pull up a chair," he said.

The chair scraped unceremoniously across the polished floor as I dragged it to the front of his desk.

I sat down uneasily.

"I want to begin by apologizing for my rather crass words as of late."

"You're…You're apologizing?" I stuttered out, astonished. I'd imagined a fight, not him giving up so quickly. But something bothered me about the way he'd carefully phrased it.

"Your crass _words_? What about trying to kill me?" I tried to leave the bitterness out of my voice. If he could be professional about this, so could I.

Sebastian stared hard at me, like he couldn't believe I was making _demands_ of his apology.

"Yes, fine, I overreacted. It's obvious to me now that your betrayal to this company was accidental."

"My what?" I managed to squeak out.

"Your betrayal… to this company…"he said slowly, emphasizing each word as if I hadn't heard, or was very stupid. Or possibly both.

"It's unfortunate to say that there will be repercussions to your decisions," he finished quietly, folding his hands on the table in finality.

"I don't even know what I did yet!" My voice was high, hysteria mingled with frustration.

He seemed to remember this.

"You recall speaking with a …Mr. Jesse Brimes?" he began.

"Yeah," I said slowly.

"Well, the…issue… lies with the fact that Jesse is an avid member of the Sabbat community. And these… activities that you have engaged in," he spat, sounding like it made him ill, "could have put this organization and the entire masquerade for that matter, in compromise."

Sebastian scrutinized my expression carefully, no doubt trying to make sure the chat we'd had was unintentional.

Holy shit.

I hadn't known that.

Funny how the guy I'd talked to at the bar had seemed so nice. Too civilized to be a member of the Sabbat.

"But how was I supposed to know?" I cried, desperate now to redeem myself, "I didn't tell him anything important, I swear."

Sebastian watched me for a moment, "I'm…not concerned with that," he sounded as if he was admitting to something, "Jesse is a double agent. He also works for this organization."

I was so relieved at not blowing the masquerade I almost didn't think about what he'd said. Then it hit me, this guy was a double agent.

"So what are you mad about?" I asked, confused.

He seemed oddly frustrated, unable to speak, "Why would you…" He trailed off then cleared his throat, his eyes blazing with uncertain authority, "When I send you out to speak with my colleagues, I expect you to not treat it as an opportunity for _entertainment_."

Entertainment? What did that mean?

I shook my head, "I wasn't putting anything 'into compromise.' I was just talking."

"I simply stated that it could have," he answered simply.

"What were you looking for at my apartment?"

Sebastian looked suddenly very uncomfortable. He adjusted his tie, eyes darting about the room, anywhere but my face. Then he sighed and folded his arms across his chest, "I had reason to believe Jesse had left the club with you."

"You were looking for him at my apartment?" I said in a dubious voice. "What would he be doing at my…"

There was a long pause as I realized with sudden clarity just _what_ he would be doing at my apartment.

"You thought I _slept_ with Jesse, a random stranger I didn't even _know_?" my voice was high pitched and squeaky.

Sebastian looked away.

This wasn't about protecting the organization at all, I realized, with a rush of clarity.

Why had Lacroix choked me? Why did he react with such sudden anger? No planning, no thinking ahead… he'd acted completely on impulse. Why had he come to my apartment alone without even a single bodyguard?

Because he'd wanted no one to witness it.

His jealousy.

Plain as fucking day.

It was a possessive kind of jealousy. The kind of jealousy that clearly says, I own you. Speaking to other people, honestly, it wasn't a crime.

If I'd said it was a little unnerving, I wouldn't have been lying.

"I apologize again," he said, "I presumed far too much."

I hesitated in asking my next question. I wasn't sure how he'd react to it. But that was the point, I guess. His reaction would tell me a lot more than his carefully censored words ever could.

"What if I had wanted a relationship with Jesse?" My voice was small and I had to work to keep it at an audible level, "What if I had taken him to my apartment? If he works for the Camarilla, what's the problem?"

Sebastian's face was a mask of professionalism as he answered, but I could sense his barely concealed disgust at the prospect, "As your sire, I am directly responsible for your actions. You represent both me and the Lacroix foundation. I will not allow coworkers at this company to date. Nor, while you work at this company will I allow you to meander through bars, picking up vampires that are potentially dangerous and politically damaging to my career."

"Maybe you shouldn't send me to bars then," I said between clenched teeth.

"I understand your innocence in this situation and I will consider it when coming up with repercussions."

"Repercussions?" I spat, "You can't punish me for talking to someone at a bar!"

"That is not my intent."

"That's what you're doing!"

I didn't know very much about working at big corporations, or anywhere really. The only job I had before college was at a crappy store. But I knew enough to know that your boss couldn't dictate your personal life.

And I didn't see Lacroix going around ordering around the other females in his office, telling them who they could and couldn't date.

I was vaguely sure there was a law against that or something.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. He didn't sound very sorry. His tone was cold and calculated. "But as long as you work for me-"

I cut him off, "fine then, I quit."

He watched me skeptically, as if he didn't believe I was really serious.

That is, until I walked out the door.


	7. An Ally

I wasn't expecting any resistance in the lobby. I mean, Lacroix and I had just had a pretty bad fight. He would probably be glad to see me leave.

And that's the way it happened. Chunk waved me out as I left.

Okay, so I'd officially quit my job with probably the only vampire in the city willing to give me one.

I stood outside venture tower, feeling stupid. A gust of wind sent my hair flying around my face and chilled me to the bone.

On the other hand, Sebastian was…

Well, he was a prick.

I could handle the yelling, the weird undefined relationship we had; I could handle him being busy, and cold, and bossy.

What I couldn't handle was the control. The jealousy. I couldn't walk around thinking that at any given moment I could be killed, for doing something as simple as talking to someone at a bar.

What made me angry was that Lacroix had the nerve, for one second, to think that he owned me, like I was his little pet or something.

His mentality scared me, and it was proving to be dangerous.

But what made me walk away from that office building that day was the simple fact that Lacroix had no second thoughts about killing me.

That's what hurt the worst.

I walked home in the bitter cold, full of hope and regret.

* * *

The next night, when I stepped outside, it was a white alien world. Every building, sidewalk, bum… covered in snow.

The people that passed by me on the sidewalk looked irritated by the powder falling from the sky in heaps. But I was excited.

I felt normal for the first time, in the longest time. No matter what happened, monster or not, at least I could count on the weather to stay the same.

I'd spent the night hunched over the previous day's newspaper, angrily circling ads for apartments. I wasn't about to stay here, in _his_ apartment, or in this city even.

The prospect of moving sat heavily on my mind. I didn't have anywhere to go. No job…and if I was honest with myself, I didn't really want to leave.

I supposed I could stay with Eliza but I knew she'd do everything within her power to get me to 'make up' with her brother. I wouldn't put it past her to betray my confidence to him either. Blood is thicker than water, so they say. Well…I guess that saying doesn't really work for vampires, does it?

So the surprise of snow was just what I needed to ease my depression.

I'd meant only to go for a walk in the snow but as I walked along, my mind got bored and I went back to mulling over my situation.

And a deliciously wicked thought entered my mind.

I could stay with one of the anarch. What better way to piss Lacroix off? His own sire would rather stay with his enemies.  
I'd been invited by that Nines guy from the trial hadn't I?

I relished in the thought for a few moments longer before deciding to act on it.

* * *

The bar reeked of smoke and the music was obnoxious and loud, when I pulled open the peeling green doors of The Last Round. I doubted I would feel very welcome here, but I plastered a smile on my face, thinking only of vengeance.

The bar itself was filled with scruffy looking vampires. They all scowled at me as I passed. I swallowed and decided to find someone else to ask where Nines was. The stairs looked promising, or at least the music didn't seem so loud up there…

I began heading that way but was stopped by an outstretched hand.

Standing in a doorway to a storage closet was an angry looking girl, who shouted at me- over the music, or just because she liked shouting, I didn't know.

"Haven't seen you around here before," she gave me a suspicious little glare up and down, "You don't look like any anarch I've seen before."

"I'm not," I admitted, wondering if I'd come to regret that before the night was up. Or if I'd leave this bar alive, for that matter.

She crossed her arms, "So whatcha doin here then?"

For some reason, I pictured her in prison, pulling out a switchblade to the nearest cellmate. I shook my head to clear it.

"I'm here to see Nines." I tried to sound confident, and not completely freaked out by her.

"Oh yeah?" she leaned in close to me, squinting, "How do I know you're not some cammy?" She spat the word cammy, like it was a cussword.

I backed up a little bit, in spite of myself, "Nines invited me!" I said defensively, "Ask him yourself!"

She still looked speculative, so I knew I was going to have to do some acting. I took a big gulp of air and gave her my best angriest expression, "Fuck that fascist Prince Lacroix! I'm no Camarilla slave! The Prince can go find the nearest hole and die in it." Even though the words sounded foreign on my tongue, the anger was real enough. It was amazing how little emotion I'd had to fake.

"Yeah!" She chanted, looking impressed, "Maybe I was wrong about you," She gave me the briefest of smiles, "Names Damsel, by the way."

"I'm Juliet," This time I knew better than to try and shake her hand.

She stepped aside, out of the way of the staircase, "Nines is upstairs."

I nodded, and found myself hurrying up the stairs.

Nines was in the corner, staring out the window moodily. He was alone up there, thank God. I didn't think I could handle any more of his cronies.

The music was less intense up there as well and I sighed in relief.

I stood there for a moment, watching his face bathed in moonlight. I was about to say something, but Nines beat me to it, "I know who you are," he said quietly, still not looking at me.

My stomach jumped into my ribcage, "Who I am…?" I stuttered nervously, hoping he wasn't talking about what I thought he was talking about.

He turned to look at my panicked expression.

"The Prince's childe," he said, with a bitter laugh.

"I'm sorry I lied," I said quickly, desperately, "But you have to understand. It was dangerous. You probably would've-"

"Yeah," he interrupted me, as if he couldn't stand to hear the rest. He didn't sound angry, and maybe that's what put me on edge. Why wasn't he angry? I couldn't figure it out.

"You're… weird, Juliet. You aren't like most vampires, are you?" his voice was strangely emotional as he watched my expression with curious eyes.

"I guess not," I said quietly.

He nodded, "Is it true that you wanna join the anarchs?"

I sighed. As long as we were being honest…

"No," I replied.

I was angry at Lacroix, yeah, but I understood him. His decisions made sense, and as corrupt as he might be to the anarchs, as power hungry… he was still trying his best for the sake of the city. I could see that.

Nines didn't look surprised, but he was sad none the less.

"Does this mean we can't be friends?" I asked teasingly at his solemn expression.

"Capulets and Montagues don't usually get along," he said, an amused smile on his lips. The way he was referencing to the play confused me… was he claiming himself Romeo?

"This isn't a storybook," I said, lightly disagreeing, with a hesitant smile of my own.

We shared a look, an unspoken agreement of peace, at least, between us.

"You'd better get going," he said. He turned back to look out the window again.

"Wait…Nines?" I hesitated as he turned back around.

"…nevermind," I mumbled.

I could feel Nine's eyes on my back as I left the Last Round, and went back out into the blistering cold.


	8. Resignation

I got home late, around four AM, so I was surprised when I heard a knock on my door.

Who could it be at this time of the day?

For some reason, I was scared out of my mind that it was Lacroix…. Paranoia no doubt that he would come dragging me back to his office.

A female voice yelled through the wood, and I relaxed. A little.

"Anybody home?" It was too meek to be Eliza. Her voice would be more forceful… hell, she probably wouldn't even knock.

I opened the door a crack, with caution.

A small girl with thick rimmed glasses and bright red hair stood smiling at me, "Hello, my name's Heather. I'm your new neighbor."

"Uhh…I…" I faltered for a moment, wondering if there was any incriminating evidence of vampirism in my apartment, or if it was okay to let her in.

She seemed to guess what I was thinking, "Oh yeah, don't worry… I'm a ghoul!" she smiled widely, proud.

"Okay then." I opened the door wide, with a smile of my own, "I'm Juliet."

I invited her in, and we sat at the kitchen counter. I offered her the can of pop that was left here from who knows how long ago. She declined.

"What apartment did you say you rented?" I asked, trying to make conversation. I wasn't used to being around someone as quiet as me.

"It's the one below yours. I live with Elijah."

I gave her a blank look, "Elijah…?"

She stared at me, shocked, "You haven't met him? He was left sireless, without anyone to help him. Lucky that Prince Lacroix spared his life!"

Oh. That guy.

"But he's the greatest," she continued, "He saved my life. I was in the hospital and dying and he gave me his blood! Did I tell you that?" Her green eyes were wide and she was talking fast.

The chick was obsessed. Ugh. It was like all my friend's high school relationships all over again. But that's ghouls for you.

I tried to change the subject before my head exploded.

"I used to work for the prince too," I said wearily.

Okay, maybe that wasn't the best subject to turn to, but I was desperate.

She looked interested, "Used to?" She smiled mischievously, like we were gossiping about him or something.

"Yeah," I said, "I quit last night actually."

She knitted her fingers together and rested her chin on them in a clear listening stance, "What happened?"

"He was really being a major asshole," I said, "So I just walked out."

"Elijah says he's got a Napoleon Complex," she said innocently.

I had to laugh at that.

"I'm pretty sure he's got my apartment bugged though," I admitted. "We probably shouldn't talk about it here."

Heather looked around with wide eyes. So much for my brilliant subject change.

In the utter silence of the apartment we could hear the whirring of the elevator as it passed our floor.

Heather hopped up excitedly from the couch, like a dog happy to see its owner. I could almost imagine her tongue hanging out and her barking wildly at the door.

"Come on!" she said, "I bet that's Elijah!" She took my hand without a second thought and dragged me towards the elevator.

It was a shock to my system to be touched so casually. The last time anyone had made a friendly gesture to me had been Eliza hugging me that day in the office when I had cried all over her. It felt like forever ago.

I smiled at Heather as the doors to the elevator dinged and opened, and she dropped my hand.

The elevator ride was painfully slow, mostly because Heather began going on another tirade about Elijah. I'll spare you the details, for both your sanity and mine. Just suffice it to say, I was pretty much ready to shoot myself in the head.

I tried to distract myself by focusing on the heated skin of my hand, where Heather had touched me… the feeling of being human, with another human. And not so much what that other human was saying.

She stopped talking abruptly, outside the apartment door, and opened it. I was kind of curious to see this Elijah guy. He must be some kind of God, I decided.

The apartment's layout was much like mine, except perhaps reversed. It was hard to tell. I'd never had an eye for that kind of stuff.

None other than the fabled Elijah himself was sitting in the middle of the living room. I had to admit, Elijah wasn't terrible looking. Now that I could see him up close, I could tell that his clan was Toreador. He was listening to classical music, sitting in front of an easel painting, if that's any indication.

And his painting didn't suck like mine.

He had bleach blonde, unruly hair. When he looked up to greet us, I saw that he had handsome masculine facial features.

What was it with these vampires all looking like they'd just walked off the set of a photo shoot? And why did that gene skip me?

He turned his irritatingly beautiful face to me, "And who might this be?"

Heather beamed, "Juliet! She's our neighbor."

He nodded at me, "Nice to meet you. I'm Elijah." He looked speculative for a moment, "You look familiar… I'm sure I've seen you before…"

"Yes," I said quietly, "I was at your trial."

"Ohhh," he laughed, and slapped the base of his palm against his forehead, "Of course, you were the one that looked like you were gonna hurl."

What a great way to remember me, I thought sarcastically, but joined in his laugher anyway.

"Well, I'd better get going…" I said after a moment of silence, "The suns coming out soon."

The truth was, I was just edgy to be around someone so close to Lacroix. I hoped Elijah wouldn't say anything about me, but I couldn't be sure.

Elijah looked at his watch, surprised, "Oh yeah… Guess it is. Well, nice meeting you, Juliet."

I took that as my cue to leave.

* * *

I spent some time on the laptop Lacroix provided for me, searching apartments and job listings on the internet. I found a few complete shitholes that I might be able to afford on a meager salary working the night shift somewhere.

Still, I couldn't figure out how I would make it work. Any place that hired me would surely want some ID, a social security number, and when they found out that I was considered dead by the government, that wouldn't go over too well for me. I wasn't sure how I would get a night time viewing for the apartments either. Office hours ended way before sunset.

I got frustrated. How the hell was I going to do this without Lacroix? Sitting there, in the nice apartment, the expensive plush laptop chair beneath me, it occurred to me that perhaps Lacroix had given me a deceased status on purpose. Could he think that far ahead to plan for something like this happening?

I shook my head. Of course he could. He was Sebastian fucking Lacroix.

The only way out of this, it seemed, was to find some way to cure vampirism. If I could prove to somebody I was alive at a government office, maybe I could cite it as their mistake. I could get a job and see my parents again, and go to college.

Out of desperation, I googled 'cure to vampirism.'

All I got were video game forums. I groaned. This was stupid. What did I expect? To find something on the internet that would make me human again? There was probably a whole job devoted to someone in the Camarilla to go around deleting shit like that on the internet.

I checked my email next, hoping for an apology, and then laughing at myself for hoping there'd be one.

Instead there were the old emails. The ones from the day of the trial. They were mostly him angry that I wasn't beckoning to his every call and whim.

…_Why aren't you checking your email…you're in deep shit …blah blah blah…_

I deleted them without really reading them.

Then something else popped up. It was a new email from Lacroix, and the timestamp said that he had sent it only a few moments ago. The subject line read: Resignation

_Your resignation from The Lacroix Foundation is unofficial. You must fill out several important pieces of documentation before you leave. Please stop by my office to obtain them tomorrow night and then you will be free to do as you wish._

_P.S. Stop googling cures to vampirism. There are none._

_-SL_

I stared at the computer in revulsion, like it had bitten me, and looked around the room in paranoia. What else did Lacroix have access to? My phone line? Were there cameras in the apartment? Somehow I wasn't surprised, despite the disgust churning in my gut at him watching my every move.

I decided that as long as I was resigning, I could have a little fun with this. I went back to the google page and typed in 'Sebastian Lacroix midget porno,' giggling madly, imagining the expression of horror on his face.

* * *

I was pretty skeptical that Lacroix would actually allow me to resign without a fight as I stood in his office. I had carefully researched the address of a homeless shelter, in case things came to that. Somehow though, I rather thought they wouldn't.

I hefted the backpack filled with random crap from the apartment, like a runaway, onto the floor in front of his desk. It mostly had blood bags in it, but there was also a serrated kitchen knife I thought might come in handy, and some other odds and ends.

I felt a bit like a child being punished as I handed over the credit card and the key to the apartment. I fished them from the back pocket of my jeans and dropped them onto his desk with an unceremonious clunk.

Lacroix spent a good chunk of time staring at the key before his eyes flicked to mine. He sighed at me, and regarded me from behind his desktop.

"Where are you going to stay?" he asked me.

I stared at him. Did he really expect me to tell him that?

He watched me with a particular look on his face, a pained, distrustful look, as if he expected me to verbally lash out at him again.

"I don't know," I finally said.

His lips down turned ever so slightly, as if that were not the answer he wanted to hear.

"I feel a certain... responsibility as your sire," he said quietly, "to be sure that you are safe."

I shrugged at him, "It doesn't mean a whole lot to me anyway," I said, "Everyone who has ever shared my blood has left me to rot. You won't be the first."

Lacroix seemed to mull that over for a moment, "You are the one walking away from this office, are you not? You are welcome to stay and accept the consequences of your actions."

I scoffed. Unbelievable. The _consequences_ of accepting his jealous, temperamental, controlling rage over me were too high a price to pay, and I didn't even consider it. I wasn't going to accept being punished for something as irrational as talking to someone at a bar, and I had a feeling he knew it.

"It's obvious that you don't want me here, _your highness_, so you can stop pretending," I retorted.

Lacroix's gaze hardened. He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck tightening. That snide little comment had made him angry, and I found myself with a small self-satisfied smile on my face.

He probably felt he deserved some kind of respect from me. But he was a dick, and I rather hoped he would be, say, blown up in a fiery death or something to that effect.

We stared each other down for a few more moments before Lacroix cleared his throat, and handed me a small stack of papers and a pen.

I signed the dotted line at the bottom, without reading them, and handed them back to him. I wasn't too worried about what they said. I believed him when he said they were resignation papers for the company. I couldn't sign over anything important now that I had nothing, not even a valid social security card.

And though I had briefly contemplated Lacroix being the devil or one of his adversaries, I rather doubted that the damned even had a soul to sign over so I was probably safe there.

Lacroix took the papers, and I got my bag from the floor.

"Juliet," he said, before I could turn to go.

I paused, waiting for him to say whatever it was he wanted to say to me.

His eyes met mine, worry, frustration, and anger in his expression,

"Stay out of trouble."

* * *

I still couldn't believe he hadn't stopped me from leaving, officially and all, even as I got into the taxi.

I tried to come up with some sort of explanation for it, but I couldn't. Maybe, I thought, Lacroix just didn't want to deal with me anymore. If he had accidentally sired me, why would he want to?

I knew where I was going. I had something to do before I _officially_ became one of the undead.

"Englewood," I told the taxi driver when he asked. As the taxi pulled away from the curb, it started to rain. I watched the droplets crawl down the window amidst my reflection, some girl I could barely recognize anymore who looked too tired, like she hadn't slept in weeks.

Would my parents even recognize me?

I spent what seemed like hours outside the home I grew up in, staring at it. The cheery yellow paint, long tapered driveway. Familiar and yet, I felt as if nothing could bring me back to this place of this human innocence.

The rain began falling harder and soon my clothes were soaked all the way through. The grit crunched under my shoes, an accumulation of dirt and cracking concrete. I'd never felt so alive and so dead.

They were not my biological parents, but they had been my only parents for many years. I would miss the hell out of them. They deserved to know the truth before I disappeared. It would comfort them to know I was alive.

I hesitated just a moment. What if they didn't accept me, accept the monster I'd become? What if someone from the Camarilla found out I'd told them?

If my parents did accept me though, I could have a part of my life back. I could at least die surrounded by my family, where I belonged, and that was worth a thousand deaths.

I took a step towards the house, and something stopped me, a cold hand on my shoulder.

I blinked the rain from my eyes.

"Lacroix," I breathed in the night air.

"Don't do something you'll later regret," his French accented voice was close and low to my ear.

"It was an accident, wasn't it?" I said to him, without turning around, "You sired me by accident."

He didn't say anything at first. The rain pounded on around us, violent and uncaring.

And then, finally, "Yes."

I nodded. He hadn't lied to me. I was vulnerable, about the break the masquerade in the dark street in front of my childhood home, and he hadn't lied.

"Okay," I said, just a quiet whisper.

The hand drifted away from my shoulder. I stood there a moment longer, a cold wind tearing through me. When I turned around, he was gone.


	9. The Overture

I paid for a full week in advance at a hotel not far from my parents' house. It was cheap, but it still used up all of the money I had.

For a week, I didn't do a whole lot of anything. It was so fucking unfair that Lacroix had done this to me. On a whim, an accident, he had taken away everything. I was completely alone in a hotel surrounded by humans slowly dying and I couldn't even do that with them.

I tried to drink one of the blood packs but I got sick, though Lacroix had once told me I couldn't as a vampire. I threw it all up, and after that, I couldn't keep anything down. I got hungry and with that hunger I got desperate. I even tried the pop tarts in the vending machine outside.

I watched the news and didn't move from the bed in my hotel room, and thought I would probably die there.

It was the fifth day in hell that I started losing my mind.

I was in a stupor of some sort. Somewhere between frenzying and malkavian. I could no longer tell the days from the nights. The news anchors voice was a constant drone in my head, a safe buzz of sanity. The Elizabeth Dane, he had said. Something about the Elizabeth Dane, but I couldn't remember what. It felt like the air was being sucked out of my lungs.

Latest breaking news.

My head spun. I could no longer see the anchor's balding head, just a blur of colors.

My saliva was thick and dry. I smacked my lips together. I needed blood. I was so thirsty. So dizzy.

The flesh of my arm, illuminated from the soft glow of the television, a beautiful crisp peach color. The veins a deep blue.  
It lay there, beckoning, waiting.

I ran my tongue down the pale soft underbelly where the veins stuck out in deep rivers and gullies. My own heartbeat thumped against my tongue.

There's no going back, once you taste the skin of a victim.

I didn't use my fangs. I didn't make two neat little holes to delicately suck from. I ripped into my own arm, like a slab of steak. Like a wild animal who hadn't eaten in days.

And with my own saliva, being a natural numbing agent, I could hardly feel it.

As the blood ran down my chin in streams, I smiled a stupid grin.

And closed my eyes.

* * *

There is music, the kind that pulls you like a puppet, to move, to dance.

And that is what I do.

The club is packed with people. We are all a big sweaty machine and I am a gear, moving in tune with other gears. This music, too loud, pulsing in our ears, pushes us together. There is no room to breathe, and that's fine with me. It feels good. Like drowning in a sea of humanity.

I see nothing but the dark club, a million other bodies clinging to one another.

But one lingers too close. This one in particular has chosen me as his dance partner. Though he is a stranger, our bodies fit together perfectly. His body is cold through his shirt. I cling to him, and his arms encircle my waist.

His frozen lips touch down on mine. The room spins. The noise of the music is muffled, as if cotton is stuffed in my ears. Every sensation of his mouth on mine is amplified. I feel the man laugh against me, deep and husky.

The machine around us keeps moving, but we still.

The potent scent of cologne wafts up to my nose. It's the good kind that doesn't make my head hurt.

I bury my head into the stranger's icy neck.

"Sebastian," The name comes effortlessly, like a favorite word.

I feel myself longing. It consumes me. I wish it were him holding me, instead of this stranger. His arms encircling my waist. His lips pressed against mine. I imagine it would taste this good.

What am I thinking?

I look up at the stranger, and stare hard at the face in front of mine.

"Juliet," the man smiles at me, saying my name with such soft familiarity; I must have met him before.  
He bends low, close to my neck.

His cool breath clings to my skin.

But his teeth are too pointy.

His mouth is too cold.

He is touching me all wrong now. Like I am food.

I am unable to move…unable to speak…

He bites down and I gasp and the life is sucked out of me.

The blood that trickles from his mouth, all down the front of my shirt is warm.

I close my eyes.

* * *

I woke in a half sleep panic, my hands flying to my neck. But there was no blood, no vampire bites. It was only a dream. I stared at the dark red stain in the mattress, seeped into the paper-stiff sheets, embedded deep in my clothes.

I tried again to drink blood, desperation overtaking me, but no sooner than I had opened the bag, I gagged. It was so disgusting, nothing like the sweet nectar I'd been addicted to in previous nights.

I was weak, too weak to get up. There was something incredibly wrong with me. My body wanted nothing to do with blood anymore.

For the next two days, I sweated, and tossed and turned in a fitful sleep and when the hotel manager came banging on the door, I ignored it.

* * *

I'd never been arrested before for anything but I guess after 2 days of not paying for a hotel room, people start to get angry.

One minute I was laying there, and the next two police officers had surrounded me, guns drawn. I didn't remember them knocking down the door, but the gust of cold wind that ripped through the wind told me that they had.

"Put your hands in the air!" one of them shouted. I flinched because I was less than three feet away from him, and he was screaming as if I was deaf or something.

I was not 'reaching for a gun' because I did not own a gun. How you can translate flinching into 'reaching for a gun' is beyond me. But that's what it said on my police report, and that's the brilliant deduction the police officer must have made when he blew a hole through my arm.

I screamed, shouted "what the fuck!" and landed flat on my ass on the floor.

"I surrender!" I squeaked, and held up an arm, the other one being cradled awkwardly to my side, profusely bleeding.

I knew I couldn't actually let them cart me off to wherever it was they were going to take me. I didn't know it was simply a case of me not paying at the time. At the time, I had thought I was going to some kind of crazy vampire enslavement camp or something. I don't know if knowing would have changed my course of action at all or not, but I panicked.

I'd meant to leap, rather dramatically onto the officer nearest me, the asshole who'd shot me and yelled. But of course I'd forgotten how weak I was, and I ended up just crashing into him.

I bit down into the soft flesh of his neck, ignoring the urge to vomit. This was my only way out.

In my desperation, I didn't even notice the other cops threatening me, trying not to shoot their fellow officer, and trying not to completely freak out about me doing the vampire thing.

I didn't notice the officer grab the radio from his belt and scream for backup.

I didn't notice how the body beneath me was getting stiff and cold and limp in my hands.

I didn't notice him gasp out his last breath on my cheek.

When the blood stopped flowing so steadily, that's when I noticed something was wrong. But by then, it was too late.

There's nothing like looking into a dead man's empty eyes. Nothing in the world. Nothing like the stillness of a dead body.

I set him down and then threw up all over the floor.

The police officers were shooting now, but they either had very bad aim or were very freaked out because only a few hit me.  
Outside the hotel I could hear the loud sirens of cop cars, the unmistakable blue and red flashing lights.

They were coming for me.

I almost let them. I almost gave myself up because I couldn't wrap my head around the idea that I'd just killed a man tonight. I felt wrong inside, like a monster.

In the end, I turned and ran out the door.

I was much better now, much stronger than I had been. The blood that I hadn't thrown up had done its job. More bullets were shot at me, and a few hit.

I don't have to tell you where I was going. You probably can guess. I knew it wouldn't be a pleasant visit. It was likely that Lacroix was going to kill me. Really, KILL me, when I showed up at his office.

There was the whole fight we'd had before, and now this? Breaking the masquerade? My face was probably on the news right now.

Oh no this was not going to be something I would walk away from unscathed.

And maybe that's what I deserved.


	10. Sorry

There are some people who were meant to kill, I really believe that. They are able to justify what they've done with heroism and protecting the innocent. Or, they say, it is the way of the world. Kill or be killed. I'm just not one of those people.

I stumbled into the alleyway behind the hotel, but I knew I couldn't stay there long. The police would catch up with me soon.

My vision went blurry for a few seconds, the wall beside me a slur of bricks and graffiti.

A part of me knew Sebastian wasn't going to kill me, but a bigger, more selfish part of me hoped he would. It was the part of me that wanted to jump in front of a police car, and go to jail, and have the right to remain silent like every other human walking the streets tonight, but I didn't even have that anymore.

I turned my head at the sound of a police siren wailing, and car doors slamming. Time was up. I dropped to my knees and wrenched open the sewer plate, cold and slimy in my hands. I held my breath as I went down, hoping it didn't taste as bad as it smelled.

Surprise, surprise, the sewer was not only cleaner than I expected it would be, but it must have been low tide. The water only went up to my ankles. Florescent lights buzzed overhead, and I found that comforting. I couldn't imagine anything scarier than jumping into a dark hole.

Is this where the nosferatu call home, I wondered to myself, and if so, where are they?

My footsteps echoed in the nasty water and hollow lonely tunnels. I found a map but it took a while to read it. When I found venture tower in big bold letters, I still had no idea where the right tunnel was.

I walked around, avoiding rats. I tried not to think about things like the rats having rabies and eating me or getting swept up in a giant tide of sewer water if more than one person flushed at once. But of course I did.

It seemed like hours and just when I thought I was lost and going in circles, I found it- the big rusted F sign that lead to my freedom.

I climbed into the hole with gusto, and made my way up the ladder. It took some extreme skill to not fall off the ladder whilst hefting open the sewer plate above me.

My fingers gripped concrete, and I lifted myself up.

I found myself in some kind of basement with storage boxes that look like they hadn't been opened in centuries. Probably not too far off from the truth.

There was an elevator, too. It looked extremely out of place in a basement. I stood up and dusted myself off. When I pressed the up arrow, it dinged softly.

At least it works, I thought to myself. I didn't know if I could've gotten by the security desk with Chunk. He probably knew that the police were looking for me…that I murdered one of his fellow officers. I couldn't believe I could kill any innocent-

No. I stopped my thoughts before they can get that far. I'd only end up making myself cry, and crying in front of Lacroix again was definitely not on my agenda. One time was embarrassing enough.

The elevator came, and the doors opened. I swayed dizzily when I tried to move. I couldn't seem to persuade my feet to go forward.

_Do it for the sweet relief of death_, I reminded myself. But death wasn't looking so sweet anymore, not in the sane confines of an office building.

_Do it for Lacroix. He doesn't deserve to have to chase you down for breaking the masquerade. The least you can do is not waste his time._

There. My feet moved beneath me.

The elevator doors closed behind me.

My hand shook so hard I could barely press the right button.

The elevator was so familiar, so heart wrenchingly familiar. I used to work here. I used to have it so good, and I didn't even know it. Man, did I regret quitting my job.

How did I ever think I could live on my own without a sire? Even if that sire did do a shitty job at it? Even if that sire didn't want me? How could I possibly think I would do okay by myself when I could bearly keep it together going to an office building everyday?

How did that Elijah dude do it? It had taken me a week to kill somebody. That had to be some kind of record.

Maybe I'd ask Sebastian about it before he blew my brains out.

No, he probably wouldn't use a gun. He probably wouldn't even give me the privilege of doing it himself. He'd make his sheriff do it, of course.

I pressed my forehead to the wall, "I don't want to die," I confessed to the lonely elevator.

The doors slid open with another ding.

I breathed what was supposed to be a calming sigh, but it came out shaky and wheezy. I stepped off the elevator.

The familiar doors to Lacroix's office lay before me. They appeared larger than usual, epic looking. Was this the last thing I'd see before I died?

Lacroix's office, once an ordinary, safe place in my mind now filled me with dread and regret.

I reached for the door handles, but my hands were sweaty and it was hard to hold on. Maybe I would have noted what a human trait this was, if I hadn't been so preoccupied with my impending death.

I took a deep wheezy breath, and swung the doors open wide. Quite a dramatic entrance, if I do say so myself.

I'm not sure what I expected. Guns blazing? Some kind of all-out battle for my humanity? I don't know.

I definitely didn't expect Lacroix to be sitting at his desk, doing paperwork as usual.

I know its pretty stupid to not expect that… I mean, that's what he does. Every day.

But I don't know, something as big as your death, you think people are going to be doing something different than what they usually do.

So I stood there, looking stupid for a few minutes before Sebastian even acknowledged my presence.

In fact, I probably could've stood there forever and he wouldn't have looked up. It was only when I stumbled forward to his desk that he paused in his work.

"Hmm.." he murmured to himself without looking at me, and went back to whatever he's writing, "I thought I was going to have to break you out of jail tonight."

I smiled, despite myself, and then quickly forced it away. Oh how I missed that snobby French accent… more than I'd freely admit.

There was a grainy female voice, the factual voice of a reporter muffled from the other room. I knew it was a conference room, so I figured the T.V. must be on.

"Wanted for the murder of LA police officer Joel Connelly, presumed armed and dangerous…"

Lacroix shook his head, "Have you any idea how long it will take me to clear your image, and more importantly, mine, and this company's from the papers? To think…" he said, shaking his head at whatever he was writing, "You, a murderer! I didn't think you had it in you." He clucked his tongue in mock scorn.

Me neither, I wanted to say. An ache settled in my chest at him saying those words.

I don't remember making any noise, but I must have whimpered, or cried out or something, because Lacroix looked up.

He looked at me carefully, skeptically, as one might a wounded animal. Not with concern exactly, but caution. Will it attack if I provoke further?

He must have decided not, because he went on.

"I'm quite impressed, actually. How is it that you manage to escape the entire Los Angeles SWAT team?" He gave me a patronizing smile.

His grey eyes were steady, unrelenting. He sighed, as if the very act of me standing here in front of him was a waste of his precious time.

And then he did something I didn't expect him to.

His face changed, so subtly that I doubted I saw it at all, into a slightly concerned look. I wasn't sure where exactly he pulled it from his big pompous ass.

"Are you injured _badly?_" he asked as he inspected my body.

It was weary concern, the kind you give to a child that slams its head on the coffee table because its too stupid to realize its fat head won't fit under there…

But it was concern nonetheless.

I looked down at myself and realized for the first time how _many_ injuries I'd sustained. I was riddled with so many bullets that parts of me looked like Swiss cheese. No wonder I could barely stay on my feet.

Blood covered the front of my shirt, crusted on my arms, my neck. I looked like I'd just walked off the set of a horror movie… only this was real life, and the blood was real. The real blood of some guy I'd murdered.

My vision spun so I looked away from the mess of my shirt.

I didn't trust myself to speak. There was a lump in my throat, and I was sure I was going to cry if I didn't get it under control.

Still, I had to say something because Lacroix was frowning at me now.

I breathed deeply and tried to sound like an emotionally stable person, but it came out high pitched and desperate sounding, "When are you going to kill me?"

He just kind of stared at me, his eyebrows dipping quizzically, as if I could say nothing more puzzling. I wondered if his English had suddenly left him.

"When am I going to kill you?" he repeated, like a kid in a spelling bee.

Buzz, sorry. The answer was N-O-W.

He stood from his office chair, purposefully, and I thought that maybe he was just messing with me. I stumbled backwards, drunk with fear.

He froze at my actions, mid step, looking more and more confused.

"You honestly believe me to cause you harm," he said, more to himself than me, "Why?"

"I broke the masquerade," I said quietly, "A sketch of my face is on the evening news."

Sebastian came around the desk to stand in front of me, hands behind his back, a neutral look on his face.

"I killed someone," I said quietly, like I was telling some deep dark secret.

Sebastian was staring at me again, as if analyzing my face. I did the same to him. Frustration, confusion, and indeed, I was pissing him off.

"Humans die all the time." He said finally, his voice cold and calculating. I think it was meant to comfort me, to reason with me, but it didn't. It made me angry.

"You say that like you aren't... like you've never been one," I replied.

Lacroix blinked at me, somewhat bewildered, but I kept going anyway, "They don't deserve to die and I killed him. We don't have to kill them. That police officer…had a family…and a life."

Just kill me already, I pleaded in my head. I didn't want to have to face my thoughts; my guilt over his death. I wondered how he'd do it, if he ever got around to it. Part of me hoped it would be slow and painful.

"You're…. being ridiculous," Sebastian struggled to understand why I was so angry, I could hear his confusion.

I shut my eyes tight, and bowed my head, waiting for the chop of that huge sword over my neck.

There was a long silence. It seemed like hours, but I'm sure it was only a few minutes, at the most.

Then something light and feathery touched my face.

My eyes flickered open, and I nearly fell backwards.

Sebastian's masculine features were close to mine. His face was serious as he inspected me with a frown. His hand dropped from my jaw, where he'd been touching me gently, and he sighed. "This injury heals too slowly," he observed, "How did you get it?"

I touched the area just above my jaw, and my hand came away bloody. I stared at it, dazed. Why was he asking about my injuries? Why did it matter? I decided to ignore his question, and get back to the real issue…

"When are you going to kill me?" I asked again.

He looked disturbed at the thought, "I'm not going to."

I could feel my fragile state of mind slipping. I was going to start crying, "Why not? I broke the masquerade!"

"It is not beyond repair, Juliet," he said in a soft, foreign tone that made my insides churn with a longing for something I didn't recognize.

I think Sebastian stood there a long time, trying to figure out what to do. He'd seen Eliza hug me before, so maybe that's where he got the idea. At any rate, it was a complete surprise to me. It happened suddenly, and once… like getting hit by lightning. Probably wouldn't ever happen again, I thought.

One minute I was standing there, the next minute Sebastian's entire upper torso was pressed against my face.

Shock came first. For both of us I think, because neither of us moved a muscle, and it was dead silent.

We stayed like that for a very long, very awkward minute, his arms engulfing my body, my face so close to his neck that I could count the hairs…

And then my stomach did this little flip of joy, my breath hitched in my throat. It occurred to me how very _close_ he was. So close I could hear him swallow.

And then, he was suddenly pushing me away, forcefully, as if I just slapped him or something.

He stood and walked over to the window, and I stared at the floor.

I don't think he meant for it to be like this. I think Sebastian just panicked. He didn't understand why I was crying, and when he talked it just made me angry. He didn't know what else to do so he hugged me because that seemed to work with Eliza.

But he wasn't Eliza.


	11. Let's Play 20 Questions!

I didn't know why Sebastian had not killed me that night. He certainly could have. In fact, I thought, it would have been a really good excuse to get me out of his hair forever.

Lacroix stared out the window for a good twenty minutes after that, and I got off the floor where I was still crumpled.

"There is blood in the fridge in the back room," his voice drifted to me in the expansive office. He didn't turn around and I didn't move to get any. I didn't know how I was going to tell Sebastian that the blood wasn't working so I figured maybe he didn't have to know.

The loud high pitched ring of Sebastian's cell phone rang out a tune and then he answered.

"I need ask you a favor. I need you to pick up hair dye, and meet me in my office."

There was a pause and then Lacroix looked irritated.

"No, It isn't for _me._"

I snickered, despite the gravity of my situation, and Lacroix glanced up at me, and then back away as he listened.

"Well I don't believe what does or doesn't look good with my skin tone is up to you anyway," he raised his eyebrows and the phone made an irritating squeaky noise that could only be Eliza yelling.

He sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"The hair dye is for Juliet. I will explain the situation when you get here."

His eyes flickered over to me, "She's…" he hesitated, "..ah…I don't know. Does it really matter? Just get the dye and get over here."

There was a short pause of hesitation, "And Eliza?" he said finally, "…be careful."

He hung up and then immediately began dialing again.

"Mercurio," he said after a moment, "I need you to report to my office immediately."

* * *

Mercurio and I spent an hour in the bathroom, sleeves rolled up, the plastic of the gloves we wore crinkling over the nasty smelling hair dye.

That's right. Lacroix's ghoul was playing beautician.

Eliza apparently was too busy, but she dropped off the hair dye and wished me luck evading the hunters. I'm sure I paled visibly at that, but I had known about them- Lacroix had told me- and I suppose I should have expected something like this to draw them out.

I couldn't believe my hair was going to be black.

I watched Mercurio's face in the mirror as he squeezed more of the goop on the top of my head. I wondered what he could possibly thinking. He caught my stare, and offered a small smile. Probably worried I was going to start crying again.

When Lacroix had first disappeared, leaving me alone with a box of hair dye and a stranger, I'd started sobbing…I wasn't ready to be alone with the images in my head of a guy I'd just killed.

But Mercurio was nice. At least, he did a good job of distracting me. By the time he left, I knew more about the mechanisms of a shotgun than I'd ever wanted to.

"So… You're the childe, eh?"

I nodded at Mercurio in the mirror and rubbed the hair dye further into my scalp.

He laughed and shook his head, "never thought I'd see the day."

"Why is that?"

"Oh, you know Lacroix, He aint exactly into sharing power…" Mercurio glanced at me nervously, afraid to offend.

I smiled reassuringly, "Yeah, I don't understand it either."

I peeled off the gloves and threw them in the sink.

"This place smells to the high heavens," Mercurio said, "Lets get outta here."

"Wait, how am I supposed to wash this out?" I pointed vaguely at the mess on my head.

He shrugged, "Aint there a public shower around here somewhere?"

I sighed, "I don't know. I'll ask around. I've got 20 minutes. Thanks a lot, Mercurio."

He smiled, "Yeah, no problem….Only…I gotta, you know…watch you til the boss gets back."

I frowned. "are you serious?" He didn't trust me alone for five minutes?

"Sorry, kid," Mercurio said.

I huffed angrily and left the bathroom, but stopped outside to wait for Mercurio and tried to calm down. It didn't do me any good to piss Lacroix off now. He was just trying to help me, not hire someone to baby-sit me… however much it felt like that was the case.

Mercurio came out of the bathroom looking a little peeved that I'd just left him.

"Sorry," I lied quickly, "I felt nauseous."

"Ah. Okay…. You know," he squinted at me, "You don't look so good."

I'm sure I didn't. I'm sure I looked like absolute crap. Because I felt like absolute crap. I was sick and pale and incredibly thin, like I'd gone a month without eating. I didn't know how I was going to hide the scratches on my face and wounds all over my body that weren't healing.

I slept the rest of the afternoon away on Lacroix's couch, and as promised Mercurio woke me up before Lacroix could get there.

* * *

It turned out to be a Tuesday night, or at least that's what Mercurio told me, when I woke up on the couch in Sebastian's office.

He'd been gone for two days, and Mercurio and I had been sitting around like bums with absolutely nothing to do. I didn't want to talk about guns, and that's all that came out of Mercurio's mouth whenever he opened it.

We ended up turning on the radio and listening to that weird Deb of Night show, which sucked, but was better than being reminded of what happened. At least UFOs had nothing to do with vampires.

Lacroix had appeared sometime around ten, early for the normal vampire goers of the night. He looked stressed out, and busy, as usual. As I watched him bustle about his desk, talking to himself, a faint sense of fond familiarity came over me. I couldn't wait for things to be back to normal.

Mercurio didn't wait for Lacroix to address him; he saw himself out, with a little wave to me. I felt my lips twitch upward on their own accord, but said nothing.

Sebastian stopped his busy CEO tirade, dropping the papers he was reading over onto his desk. It was very sudden and gave me the impression that he had been faking it, for Mercurio's sake. But that made no sense.

"When is the last time that you fed?" he asked.

My mind reeled for an answer, and I could feel panic loop around my intestines like a cold snake. I knew the last time I fed was when I had killed that police officer, but that wasn't what made me so anxious. I would probably be expected to feed again, and I wasn't sure that I could possibly stomach it.

Sebastian must have thought it was the death, because suddenly he got very quiet, and pursed his lips together.

"Nevermind," he said, and I knew it was just about the closest thing to an apology I would get.

He picked up the paper he'd been worrying over, and held it out towards me. At first I wasn't sure what he was doing. Sebastian had never handed me anything important before, but when he looked up, his piercing gray eyes questioning, I stumbled forward and took it from him.

It was Sebastian's handwriting; that much was obvious. It was elegant and could only be from someone who'd studied calligraphy sometime in his life. I'd never seen his handwriting up close and personal before, and I mulled over the lines in my head. When I looked up at Sebastian, I realized that I hadn't actually read any of it. Crap. I bit my lip and awkwardly went back over the paper again. There was a long list of personal questions on it.

"What is this?" I asked, my voice quiet.

Sebastian sat down in his office chair with a sigh. "Forbes magazine wants to do an interview."

I blinked, "…On _you_?"

Sebastian gave me a steadily-rising offended look.

"Oh… that came out wrong," I amended quickly, with a sheepish smile.

I felt the difference in height, with him sitting down and me standing in front of his desk, wrong somehow. I sat down in one of the chairs behind me.

"Nevertheless, are you aware of what this company really does?" he asked, and he leaned forward.

Of course I knew what the company did, I thought defensively. I'd worked there for months. You don't work somewhere for months and not know what's going on.

I opened my mouth to tell him just how much I did know, when I realized, with some shock, that… I couldn't even give a basic description.

All I had done for the past months was fill out spread sheets of employee data, go to meetings where people mostly talked about firing people, and run errands.

My empty gaping expression must have seemed amusing because Sebastian's lips twisted into a smug little grin, "Yes, well… I didn't expect you to know much."

His voice was getting louder and more overly dramatic. I knew he was about to make a long boring speech. But I had questions.

"Wait, isn't this company a cover up, you know, for the vampire headquarters thing?" I interrupted.

He gave me a funny look, "vampire headquarters?"

Okay so it sounded like something straight out of a bad comic book.

"You know what I mean," I grumbled.

"No," he said, "The Lacroix Foundation is a real company. It makes nearly 20 billion dollars in business sales alone a year."

He looked at me expectantly, as if I should be shocked and amazed by that statement. He watched my reaction carefully, or there lack of, and apparently decided that I wasn't nearly impressed enough because he began slinging more facts at me.

"The article isn't surprising considering how well this company does, not to mention that I am one of the top 20 leading billionares in the united states," he paused to think, "If they considered I also ran a secret organization, I'm sure my rank would be higher."

It was almost humorous that he cared so much. I mean, it's just a stupid rank in a magazine.

When he had finished his little speech, I was ready this time. I carefully constructed my face into an expression of awe.

"That's amazing," I added for good measure, with just the right amount of airy breathlessness.

Sebastian relaxed visibly in his chair.

At the end of it all, I still had no idea what the company did.

"I must prepare for the interview by Monday. They'll be coming here," his eyes swept around the room for a moment, as if to check that everything was in place, "So be prepared to spend a few hours somewhere else."

I tried not to smile as his eyes settled on me again. A few hours somewhere else would give me time to sleep.

"Would you like some help preparing?" I asked politely.

I didn't really expect him to say yes, so I must have looked shocked when he nodded.

"Your job is to make sure that I can answer this set of questions. I'm fairly sure they are what the magazine will ask. I've managed to acquire them in advance."

In other words: I stole these questions.

"I'd like you to read them off to me," he finished and folded his hands on his desk.

I gave him a dutiful smile and cleared my throat, "Okay, sure." Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. I'd learn a lot about Lacroix, after all.

I looked over the questions.

"Question one…Though it is common knowledge that you were born in France, due to your prominent accent, tell us your birth date."

Sebastian was silent for a really long time. I didn't think it was that hard of a question.

"Some twenty-odd years ago," he finally said, "1985 perhaps? What a bold faced lie."

I nodded, remembering that he was actually 200 years old.

He suddenly looked rather intense. His eyes burned with what I first mistook as anger, but his voice was too soft, "what about you, Juliet? When were you born?"

I realized it must be curiosity.

"What?" I said, staring dumbly. Why would he ask that? Why did he care? I readjusted my question when I saw his irritated expression, "Why do you ask?"

"I am interested in your age," He said dryly, "That is usually the case when one person asks another their birth date."

"Oh…yeah…" I didn't go on further to ask why it mattered, "I'm 18. Born in 89."

He sighed, and looked away, as if deep in thought.

"I suspected as much," he said. I could barely hear him. Maybe it hadn't been meant for me to hear.

"Are you ready for another question?" I shuffled the papers in front of me.

He waved at me, but didn't look up, "Yes, yes, go on."

The questions varied from material to the personal. Some were rather boring. What kind of car do you drive, for example, or what kind of suit do you wear, but some were more interesting. I skipped ahead to the ones I thought he might find difficult to answer.

"Name several things you've spent your money on?" I recited from the page.

"Besides maintaining the Lacroix Foundation and other business affairs…I…" I'd never seen Sebastian hesitant about anything before. I realized that, besides working, he did little else.

"Just make something up," I advised, "Say you have a family, and go on vacation a lot."

He shook his head, "My employees know that I don't."

I shrugged. To the outside observer, it did seem like he kept his personal life to himself…instead of just… not having one.

"What about a girlfriend? They can't discredit that," I suggested.

"That sounds idiotic. I spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on a girlfriend?"

I frowned, "yeah," I agreed, "But it'll get them off the subject."

"And on to a more difficult one."

"Okay…" I said a little irritatedly.

Why did I agree to help again?

"Say it's your fiancé, and that this magazine is the first to know about it."

He didn't comment, so I figured he couldn't find anything to complain about.

"It ties into the next question too," I said proudly, "what do you find most attractive in a woman?"

There was a blank expression on his face when I looked up from the paper.

Women, you know, the creatures that yell at you and have boobs…? Eliza? Me?

"I haven't…dated…in…a while," he grimaced like it was physically draining to admit.

"Well, I wouldn't say _that._"

He glared at me.

"Okay okay, just answer with a virtue."

Another blank expression.

Virtues, you know, those things you never use?

"Like honesty, or humility," I clarified.

Sebastian frowned, "I suppose." He sounded pitifully sad.

Maybe all this lying was getting to him. Wait, what was I talking about? This was Sebastian Lacroix. He'd never seemed uncomfortable lying to the masses before. Perhaps it was something else.

"Maybe we should stop for today," I suggested at his unusually reserved stance.

He nodded at me, "I will be gone again this afternoon…"

He paused, as if hesitant to ask. "Would you like me to call Mercurio to stay with you?"

It took every ounce of willpower for me to not roll my eyes at him.

"No, that's okay," I smiled for good measure.

That's right, you can leave my babysitter at home, thank you very much.

He assessed my cheerful disposition and nodded. "I shouldn't be long with Doctor Grout."

"Doctor?" I repeated, "Like a vampire…doctor?"

Lacroix was too preoccupied with whatever was making him sad to care why I was asking. He nodded.

A vampire doctor. I couldn't help but thinking that this might be my way out of this weird sickness my body was going through. I smiled a secret smile to myself. I'd have to figure out where this doctor lived, and maybe pay him a little visit.


	12. New Job

I didn't usually spend much time looking out at the city, but that night was different. That was the night I was going to have to sneak out of a high security tower and somehow make it to some doctor's place whom I had no idea if would even help me.

I leaned my head against the glass with a sigh, and looked down onto the street, cars whizzing by from a dizzying height. The glass wasn't nearly as cold as it used to be, even with the snow still outside, it was about the same temperature as my skin. It felt nice, like lukewarm bathwater.

I closed my eyes.

BZZZZZZZZZZZ. The intercom crackled to life, and I flinched, banging my forehead against the window with a muffled ping. "Fuck," I said to myself, with a glare towards the offending glass.

"Mr. Lacroix?" It took me a second to realize that it was Chunk's voice from downstairs in the lobby. Over the intercom he sounded strange; his voice too high pitched and crackly,

"Elijah's here. Want me to send em up?"

There was a second of silence where I debated answering. I couldn't decide if it would be a bad idea to try and fake a French accent or not. I'd never done it before so I couldn't be too good at it. I swiveled around, away from the window, and found the little speaker box sitting innocently on his desk.

I pressed the red button with only a small amount of hesitation, "Mr. Lacroix isn't in, but… send Elijah up anyway please. He can wait here." I tried to sound official, like a secretary, or like my mother, maybe.

"Yes ma'am," Chunk answered, so it must have worked.

I wondered if Lacroix would be angry that I did that.  
I'd done worse, I remind myself, and he wasn't mad then.

The safe, warm office looked fake after what happened a few days ago with that police officer. I had put off thinking about it. It was only the second time I'd ever taken blood from another person before. I usually used blood packs, not favoring the taste of other people's skin between my teeth. And I'd never done it with malicious intent. But I had been so desperate that night, I had done it without thinking.

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.

There was a knock on the door. Elijah.

"Come in!" I yelled in that general direction, and forced a fake smile as the door clicked open.

Elijah stepped in the room, and I had forgotten how attractive he was. His hair, bleached almost white, was wet and tangled into a mess of curls. Water dripped from his nose. His shirt was soaked, too. All he needed was the shampoo and he could do a commercial.

I bit my lip.

He stopped, and went wide eyed after entering the room.

"Hey, I saw you on the news…." The door clicked shut behind him. "Heather said your apartment was ransacked," he looked around in confusion, as if he couldn't put together our surroundings and me standing here, "What are you doing here?"

I shrugged, and tried to keep my eyes on his face, which wasn't hard, but he did have on a wet t-shirt and a nice muscley torso…

"It's a long story. Lacroix helped me out of it," I said simply, "What are you doing here?"

He sighed, instantly distracted, and ran a hand through his hair. His shoes squeaked as he crossed the room to the sofa, and sat there, putting his muddy shoes up on the coffee table, as if it were his own living room.

I sighed, eyeing the growing puddle dripping from his shoes. That mess wasn't going to help Lacroix's mood.

"You wouldn't believe half the shit I've had to do!" He threw his hands up in aggravation, and met my gaze. "I'm not sure how much I'm supposed to tell you…" he admitted, "but you're pretty close to Lacroix,"

For some reason that simple statement sent shivers through me. I didn't argue with him the finer points of Lacroix telling me next to nothing. If he wanted to think I was in the know, it was fine with me.

"I'm sure you know the basics. But I guess I can tell you, if you want to hear what happened." He lifted up the end of his shirt and twisted it in his hands, wringing out a puddle of water on the floor.

"Do you need to use a sink?" I asked pointedly, wondering at this point if he _wanted_ to piss Lacroix off.

He smiled up at me obliviously, "No thanks." He finished wringing out his shirt and sat back with a sigh, stretching out on the couch, "Oooh man…"

Curiosity overrode my fear of Sebastian's anger over the messy floor. "So… Did Lacroix send you somewhere?"

He smiled that cocky half smile, that made me think he knew how attractive he was, "You know it," he answered.

"Why are you so….wet?" I asked, trying not to laugh, and not make a joke about a drowned cat, "I mean, it's not raining, is it?"

"It is in Santa Monica." He was quiet for a moment, as the cocky smile momentarily left his face, "I don't even know where to start…"

He met my eyes, and he looked weary, older, somehow.

"Start at the beginning," I suggested with a smile.

It was supposed to be a smart ass type answer but he didn't laugh, "yeah, okay," he said with a nod, "What'd you know about the Elizabeth Dane?"

* * *

It was a crazy story, I had to admit. An ancient sarcophagus, on a ship, that held a thousand year old vampire, that would mean the end of the world.

But I suppose if vampires could be real…. Couldn't anything?

I didn't know, but I didn't want to mess with this thing if it could bring upon some kind of apocalyptic doom. And I couldn't see Sebastian wanting to, either.

I was pondering all of this while Elijah was telling me about Heather leaving to go on vacation.

I said that seemed very unlike her. I couldn't imagine her spending a week without Elijah, but he just shrugged, apparently unconcerned.

It was then that Lacroix finally showed up from where ever he was hiding out for the last hour. He looked in an all business mood, so he'd probably been in a meeting of some sort.

The second he entered the room, I got as far from Elijah as possible. I didn't want to be guilty by association. As predicted, Lacroix took one look at the mess on the floor next to Elijah and got red in the face. I took another step backwards.

Then Lacroix did something I didn't expect. He took a deep breath, his face returned to normal color, and he asked in a calm, non-homicidal voice, "What news do you have of the Ankarian Sarcophagus?" Sebastian paused to glance at me in the corner with a suspicious gaze. I realized I was listening way too carefully for someone who was uninformed and quickly looked away. "I don't need a monologue," he continued, "Just give me a brief description. I'm very busy."

He seemed disappointed by the news, and, with a speculative glance my way, the prince ushered Elijah out, saying he would email him.  
As soon as the doors had closed behind Elijah, Sebastian turned to me,

"I didn't assume you were ready for kindred politics. Your conduct as of late seems to be contradicting me. Tell me, Juliet… Does this interest you?"

I nodded silently; glad I wasn't getting yelled at for eavesdropping.

He turned away suddenly, pacing. "I must admit… this surprises me."

He turned back again, with an appraising eye, "Would you be willing to assist me in such endeavors? You seem to have a way of… overhearing things…" he said, with a knowing look.

He was asking if I'd be his snitch. I knew what I would say without having to think about it,

"Of course," I said.

He gave me the barest hint of a smile, and my cheeks felt sweltering for a moment.

Sebastian didn't seem to notice, thank God. He turned away again, looking out over the city for a moment, and then, as if remembering the time, he was busy again. He began gathering papers from his desk.

"Come, Juliet," he said, without looking at me.

I couldn't help but lift an eyebrow. It sounded like he was calling his pet dog over. Degrading… but I followed nonetheless, as he swiftly left the room, for lack of a better option.

"Where are we going?" I asked, as I tried to keep up with his hectic pace towards the elevator.

He punched the button as soon as he reached it, and then regarded my question.

"I need to pay Grout a visit," Sebastian said.

I couldn't believe my stroke of luck. It seemed I wouldn't have to sneak out after all.

The elevator came fast, as it always did for that floor. I had always suspected he had his own special elevator, mostly because nobody else was ever in it, and in a company like this with this many employees… not likely in a public everyday elevator. But then again, I hadn't exactly been coming in during normal office hours either.

On the ride down I pondered what would happen if the elevator broke down and we were stuck together in it. The thought made me vaguely wish it would actually happen. I accidentally giggled aloud in a very girly fashion after that, pretty loudly. Sebastian glanced at me questioningly but said nothing, and I stared at my shoes the rest of the ride down.


	13. Scapels and such

I knew there was something wrong with Grout's place before we even stepped through the door. Mainly because of the man himself.

The house looked harmless enough from the outside. As Lacroix and I stepped through the creaky iron cast gate, I couldn't help but admire the architecture. There were intricate Victorian style moldings over every window and beam. Everything was a dark green color that almost blended into the surrounding trees and underbrush.

I looked up towards the sky and nearly gasped at the unexpected height. This wasn't a house at all- it was a mansion.

Sebastian didn't seem nearly as interested in the appearance of the place as I was. In fact he seemed to not even look as he walked up to the front entrance and rang the doorbell. I hurried to catch up with him.

The door opened just a crack, and a thin man with shiny black hair poked his head out. He was too young to be Dr. Grout, I knew that much. He was just a kid, maybe not even out of high school. He looked tired, with dark purple circles under his nearly black eyes. He wouldn't be all that unattractive, if it weren't for the fact that most of his body seemed scarred, stitched, or cut up in some way.

He glared at us, with an expression of mistrust like an abused animal. I couldn't help but take a few steps backwards on the porch at the pure hatred in his gaze.

Sebastian didn't seem perturbed by the sight.

"Hello Dominic," he said, in a soft careful voice I'd never heard him use before. I glanced up at his face just in time to see a pity filled look cross his aristocratic features, before he concealed it with a mask of indifference. "Is Dr. Grout in?"

Dominic stood there staring at Lacroix for a few seconds more, and just when I thought he wasn't going to answer, his lips curled into a smirk and he opened the door wide, "Yes, yeah….come in."

His voice was wheezy, as if he were suffering from a recent bout of asthma, or had just gotten done running a mile. It would be almost unnoticeable if not for the confused way he spoke, pausing every once in a while mid-sentence; repeating the same things twice.

He left us standing in the foyer while he disappeared behind one of the doors.

The house itself smelled like chemicals that faintly reminded me of the dentist's office, but there was no evidence of where this smell came from. There were a few elegant chairs in the corners of the room that looked as if they hadn't been sat on for centuries, but other than that, there was little in the way of decoration.

Lacroix adjusted his stance and I realized I was standing so close, I was practically leaning against him. I took a small step to the left, and tried to ignore the rise of panic that I associated with this action.

"Perhaps I should have warned you of the doctors...quirky nature," Lacroix quietly murmured to me.

God, was I that transparent? I couldn't meet his gaze, out of embarrassment.

"No... I'm fine," I said, but my voice was too high pitched, and anything but level.

"You're a horrible liar," he said, with a faint trace of amusement in his voice.

I didn't get a chance to reply, because the doors clicked open. They were a different set of doors than Dominic had disappeared through before. This baffled me.

Dr. Alastair Grout was a short, stubby man, with wiry grey hair that stuck out in all directions on the top of his head. He smiled at us, but it looked nervous, and didn't reach his eyes. He was followed by Dominic, who still looked rather murderous as he closed the doors behind him.

"Ah, Mr. Lacroix, my good sir! What brings you to my abode on this fine evening?" His words seemed to be carefully placed, as if he had recited them many times over.

"Dr. Grout," Sebastian nodded in his direction, "I'd appreciate your council on a few important matters."

"And you came all the way out here for this? What an honor," he wiped the sweat away from his forehead with the back of his palm. The old man was obviously nervous, but Lacroix seemed to have this effect on most people he met with.

"Yes well," Lacroix sounded politely indifferent, "The honor is all mine."

Grout nodded, and clasped his hands together, "Why don't we proceed to the library, where we can talk about this matter," Grout glanced at me, "More privately."

To my horror, Lacroix only nodded.

"Good then. Dominic, why don't you show our lovely guest around the mansion and keep her company, hmm?" Grout said.

Dominic's wild eyes set squarely on me and he smiled, beckoning me closer with an outstretched arm.

"Be back here in an hour," Grout instructed.

I nearly groaned aloud. An hour with this lunatic? I watched Lacroix's face carefully, trying to figure out what terrible misdemeanor I had committed to piss him off this badly.

"Yes, go talk with Dominic, while I speak with Dr. Grout," he said it normally, but captured my eyes in a long, hard gaze. He wanted me to find something out.

I looked back to Dominic doubtfully. He meant for me to get information from a man who looked more like a science experiment than a person... What could he possibly know?

When I turned back to Lacroix, his back was to me. Grout and Lacroix were swiftly leaving the room. I caught only a few seconds of the backs of their heads before I was left. Alone. With Dominic.

Dominic turned to me, as soon as they'd left, and in his wheezy voice said, "Come with me. I will give you a tour," and then he laughed as if he'd said the funniest thing on earth. He actually bent over, and put a hand on the wall to steady himself.

And then, just as abruptly as he'd began, he stopped.

I decided not to ask.

He picked a door, seemingly at random, and opened it, watching me expectantly. I followed with some hesitance into another foyer-like room. This one was brightly lit in green tinted bulbs, and a painting of Grout stared at us from the corner.

I saw there was a large scar on the back of Dominic's neck. I wondered what type of weapon could inflict that kind of damage on a vampire... or was he a ghoul? I didn't know, and I didn't want to ask.

Dominic seemed just as eager to speak as I was. We stood there, not speaking to each other for a full five minutes or so, which was fine with me.

I took the time to explore the room, feeling like a detective in an old fashioned murder mystery. The house had that kind of setting. I read the names of the books on the bookshelf. Mostly anatomy books, some classic fiction. All the while Dominic's sharp eyes followed me around the room.

I was beginning to get frustrated by the lack of information when I saw a recording device sitting on a lone table, the old kind that you put reels in. I admired it for a moment, and then, without really thinking, pressed the play button.

A voice began speaking, a long monologue that jumped from topic to topic randomly. I looked to Dominic questioningly, and he took a few steps forward. I realized only half way through the tape that the voice was that of Dr. Grout's. It sounded so dramatic on the tape, moaning and carrying on as if he was reading a horror story. His voice sounded nothing like that in person.

He made disturbing references to 'voices,' which I didn't understand at first.

Then, with a jolt, I realized Dr. Grout was a Malkavian. I don't know why it had never clicked before, maybe because he was so well put together, on the surface. Maybe because I'd never met a Malkavian before. Whatever the case, as this tape proved, his inner thoughts were the furthest thing from sanity.

As the message came to a close and clicked off, I looked up to find Dominic staring at me intensely, trying to read my face for a reaction.

"Why didn't you stop me?" I asked, shifting my weight from foot to foot nervously under his hard gaze. This couldn't be a part of the normal guest tours. I seriously doubted Dr. Grout wanted his guests knowing he was completely bonkers, especially since he went to such great lengths to hide it outwardly.

"The mad hatter found a new dolly to play tea party with."

It came out of nowhere and I struggled to put it into context. The mad hatter… Referencing Alice in Wonderland? Why did everyone always make classic literature references around me? I picked my brain for the meaning of his confusing metaphor.

"A new dolly?" I repeated, feeling stupid, like I was talking to a three year old, "Who?"

"Who indeed." Dominic said with a flat expression, like I should already know.

I was almost afraid to say it, "…Me?"

Dominic smiled. The hard, cold deadness in his eyes seemed to recede a little, "The dolly sees its own seams."

"No," I argued, frustrated, "I don't know what you're talking about."

The silence of the parlor made my ears ring. A coo coo clock chimed in the corner, and I couldn't help but think the choice of clock was extremely ironic. Maybe they'd chosen it on purpose, as a little joke.

"You come here, with the eyes of dead road kill. Your bones are screaming in agony! You seek the council of the man with the stethoscope."His words were almost poetic in a way, although I didn't know if I should be offended at being compared to road kill.

Everybody always says the Malkavian's insight is amazing. I just think its creepy.

"Yes…" I said slowly, recovering from the shock of him knowing things I hadn't yet told him, "Will you get the doctor to help me?"

"Oh little doll, the man with the stethoscope will tear apart your seams," his voice is raw and emotional.

My eyes traveled up the length of his bruised arm, and I suspected he was speaking from experience. I nodded, with a kind of quiet respect for his pain. I decided that I didn't want to ask. Whatever happened to him, it was probably not an easy thing to talk about.

"Can _you_ help me, then?" I asked. I was hoping he had some kind of medical skill from being around Dr. Grout so much.

He seemed to be off in his own world, distracted by something I couldn't see. His eyes bounced across the room excitedly, then settled back on me.

"The clock ticks," he murmured, more to himself than me.

I understood that one. Time was running out. We'd wasted fifteen minutes or so here, and we had only an hour. I hoped we wouldn't run into the doctor and Lacroix, but I wasn't too worried. It seemed like Dominic knew this place, for its insane amount of doors, and twisting hallways, extremely well.

Dominic put a hand on my back. I flinched away from the contact, without thinking, but then felt bad for it. He doesn't seem to notice, or care, either way. He led me through a door and down an empty, winding stairwell. I tried not to fall, as my feet banged on the metal plates. Next to my noisy clomping, his footfalls were practically nonexistent.

The room we ended up in was far from comforting. It was what looked like my high school science lab, but lacking all the professionalism and cleanliness.

Shiny metal tongs and scalpels were laid out at various sinks. Heavy saws and cutting equipment hung from the walls. The temperature was that of a meat locker, and I got the impression that's what it truly was.

There was a small collection of chairs scattered around the room that resembled electric chairs, with leather straps meant to hold down the arms and legs of 'patients.'

The worst part of it was the rust. An orange-red rust was deep set into every metal instrument, as if none of it had been cleaned in years.

It was disturbing.

Dominic led me to a chair. I didn't sit in it.

Dominic's head disappeared as he reached down under one of the countertops. When he came back up, there is a red book in his hands. It was the largest book I've ever seen, almost as large as his torso. Well, maybe not _his_ torso. Dominic was nearly as skinny and sick looking as me.

His arms strained as he lifted the book. He carried it over and dropped it on the ground in front of me. It slammed hard against the concrete. Now that I had a better view of it, I could see that the book didn't start out red at all. The cover was a continuous crimson, but the pages were smeared with fingerprints.

I had a feeling of what it was and I didn't dare touch it.

There was an engraving in the front cover. It was the original title. I squinted at it. "Physician's Desk Reference," I read aloud, and looked at Dominic, wondering what he expected me to do with it.

But Dominic was already across the room, assembling what looked like an IV. "Shall we extract a sample of the plasma?"

I worked the phrase around in my mind until I decoded it. He wanted to take a blood sample. I decided maybe it _would _be best if I sat down.

Dominic was skilled with a needle. When I flenched away, I couldn't tell he'd stuck me with it until he chuckled and I looked up to see a tube in my arm.

It didn't work very well. The blood didn't want to cooperate. It was thick in places, coming out agonizingly slow.

Dominic busied himself with staring at the ceiling, whispering something I couldn't quite make out. It was extremely quiet.

I remembered the look Lacroix had given me upstairs and wondered what he wanted. I figured I couldn't go to him without any information at all, or he might stop taking me on these little excursions. But I also had to be careful to leave a large portion of the information I'd learned out. If I told him about the lower parts of the house, the laboratory, I'd have to lie about why I was down here in the first place.

"Dominic?" My voice was very loud in the silent room, even though I'd hardly spoken at all.

He flinched, his …talking to the ceiling interrupted, and glared at me.

"Sorry," I mumbled, "I just wanted to ask… what do you think of Lacroix?"

I figured this would be a safe answer to give Sebastian. He always seemed to want to know other's opinions of him.

Dominic took a minute to answer. His eyes traveled down the length of my arm, and he began removing the IV. "Too funny to be a prince. He should be a Jester."

I didn't know what that meant, so I stayed quiet while he took the needle from my arm.

The blood bag was scarcely full but Dominic seemed happy with it. He shoved it in a fridge across the room.

"Before we take the test, we must know what to test for." He watched me expectantly, "Tell me a terrible secret, little doll."

I nodded. I'd only give him the bullet points of my symptoms, "I stopped being able to drink blood."

Dominic's insane dark eyes bounced around the room on random objects as he thought. He picked up the heavy physician's desk reference and heaved it onto a countertop. He began flipping through the pages and I watched. The pages were all hand-written, and the book was bound with twine. Dominic continued frantically searching for a minute and then looked frustrated, "Tell me more."

"I slept for days. I had some pretty weird dreams too."

This prompted another frenzy of page turning,

"Vomiting, healing slowly," I thought hard, but that was all I could remember.

Dominic finally stopped on a page and looked at me meaningfully.

I slowly got up from the chair, afraid of dizziness from the loss of blood. I steadied myself with a hand on the counter next to him.

He pointed to a passage in the book, and I bent over it, still careful not to touch it. It smelled weird up close, sweet smelling. More disturbing than even that, I was compelled to lick it, which proved my original theory of the book being coated in blood.

I had to bend over rather close to read the small, hand written text, and I licked my lips.

"Vampires of this type display a certain resistance to being turned. I have observed it in only one of the humans. They often vomit the blood offered to them, and die soon after from starvation. I have been unable to find the cause of this resistance, but there are certain anomalies in blood type and structure that one can... "

"Yes," I said immediately, "That sounds plausible," I took a few steps back from the disgustingly intoxicating book.

Dominic nodded, the thick black mess of his hair sticking up with the sudden jerk of his head, "We will test your blood. A few days, a few days at the most. Maybe today."

He was speaking in a quiet voice, to himself, mostly.

"I can also, also test your plasma for the curse." He added, his voice dramatic.

"The curse? You mean vampirism?" Testing for vampirism seemed to be a moot point to me, but he was the (kinda sorta) doctor here.

He shook his head, his eyes going wide, "No! The sign of the apocalypse! The curse! The terrible abomination of the blood! Those who cannot sire!"

I flinched away from the volume.

Those who cannot sire…. "Thin bloods?" It was a guess, a shot in the dark, but from his expression I could tell I'd guessed right.

His eyes were ablaze with anger when he shushed me. He signed the catholic cross, touching his forehead, chest, and shoulders in succession.

I could barely keep from rolling my eyes. And here I had thought he was pretty smart for a Malkavian.

"It's only superstition," I argued quietly.

He shook his head, his gaze murderous, "If the blood is cursed, we must free it from your body."

Did he seriously mean that he would kill me? I tried to keep him from reading the fear in my eyes by looking away.

"Okay," I said finally, when it seemed like he wouldn't further cooperate without my promise. I had no actual intent of doing so. Who would willingly agree to killing themselves?

He relaxed. "Your digits to the phone?"

"My phone number? I don't have one."

There was a time when I had a cell phone, but Lacroix prohibited it in a bout of paranoia, saying it was too easy for people to listen in.

Dominic thought for a moment, and then opened up the side drawer of the counter where the book lay. He dug through it for a moment, until he pulled out a pen. He tore off a corner of the page, and wrote down a set of numbers, and handed it to me.

I looked over the phone number, but couldn't figure it out. The area code was wrong for LA. I was beginning to get frustrated when I realized it was written backwards, with the area code at the end.

I should've known.

I'd have to call the number from a payphone, but at least that wouldn't involve me sneaking out. There was one in the cafeteria downstairs in the Venture building.

"Thanks," I said to Dominic, "What can I do to repay you?"

He smiled that wicked smile that made me immediately on edge. "The time will come," he said.

We began heading upstairs, after Dominic had lugged the heavy book back to its original cabinet. He talked to himself all the way up, something about 'feeding the experiments.' I ignored him.

I found myself in the foyer we started in faster than I expected. And from a different angle. We'd used a different set of doors again.

Lacroix was staring off into space, looking like Grout had given him a lot to think about. I wondered if he'd share any of it with me.

Lacroix turned to Dominic and nodded, "Thank Dr. Grout for his unwavering hospitality today, and thank you as well. I do hope our future negotiations go …smoother."

Dominic didn't reply, but Lacroix didn't seem like he really expected him to, just led us to the door.

Outside a hummer with blacked out windows awaited us.

I paused to take one last look at the mansion, and I couldn't shake the weird feeling that I'd never see it again.


	14. Blood

Relief hit me when I stepped into the car. Relaxing against the cool leather seats, it was easy to imagine the terrible basement in Grout's mansion to just be a bad dream. I warily closed my eyes, but bounced my leg to keep from falling asleep.

The car door dinged as Lacroix opened it, and I felt him sit down beside me. The car began moving, a gentle rolling motion that lured me deeper into a state of relaxation.

"What did you think of Dr. Grout?"

I sighed. Why did I think he would be polite enough not to bother me?

"I don't know. I didn't see much of him," I said, without opening my eyes.

"Your first impression then?" Sebastian replied, sounding kind of ticked off. I supposed most people treat him with a little more respect, or at least looked at him when he addressed them.

I opened my eyes, if only just to see his expression.

I realized that was probably a bad idea when I saw how terribly close he was sitting. His knee was nearly touching mine.

There was so much room in the oversized luxury car. I eyed the nearly 3 feet of empty space. Why couldn't he sit further away? My face felt hot, and I immediately looked away, and focused on trying to come up with a coherent answer.

"It seemed like Dr. Grout was very well rehearsed. He spoke to you very carefully," I said, "He was also very...sweaty."

Lacroix made the closest thing to a snort that he could without looking undignified, a scoff maybe.

"You think he has something to hide," he said.

"I know he does," I muttered.

"How is that?"

"Just look at Dominic. Something weird is going on in that house."

"Yes," Lacroix said. He looked at me with something akin to appreciation. I couldn't breathe, he was so close. What was wrong with me? Why did it bother me so much?

"I'm afraid that Dr. Grout is actively searching for a cure to his..." Lacroix paused, correcting himself, "Our... affliction. It is only an issue because he needs test subjects."

I squirmed, "Is that what Dominic is? A test subject?"

"Not only that, but Dominic is Grout's first cousin," Repulsion made his voice sharp, and finally he tilted back away from me. I felt relieved, but also a strange sense of disappointment. Then I registered what he said.

"How could he do that to his own family?"

Lacroix looked just as repulsed as I felt. I couldn't imagine using my own cousin as a test subject for experiments... like that. He was just a little kid. I imagined he would look a lot like Dominic at that age... if he were completely insane, that is.

It made me feel a very intense fear when I thought about Dr. Grout. He must have been either terribly cruel, or horrifically insane. Either way, it was not a very pleasant thought.

"Is that what you came to see Grout about?," I couldn't help but spit his name out with a kind of hatred that was completely instinctual.

Sebastian looked kind of surprised that I was demanding information from him. Maybe surprised that I had the balls. I was pretty surprised myself.

"...if you want to share, that is," I tacked on at the end with a spineless smile.

He smiled, amused, so he must have been thinking the same thing.

"Yes, well, I suppose if you're going to give me information, its only fair."

He watched me expectantly. I understood how this would work now. He would only give me information if I could give him some in return, sort of like a test to make sure he could trust me with it; to make sure I was really doing my job to snitch.

"Dominic took me downstairs," I said, "I don't know why." I told that lie quickly and deliberately, looking Sebastian in the eye.

"There are some interesting things down there." I recounted what I saw in the gruesome basement, and even the doctors reference book. Any thing I could safely tell him, I did. I told him what Dominic had said about him being a jester, hoping it wouldn't make him angry. I told him more than I meant to about our conversation, and the insane sounding message Dr. Grout had left, but I didn't say anything too revealing.

Lacroix was particularly interested in everything Dominic had said. He wanted me to repeat it to him, just as he'd said it. I couldn't remember most of it.

"He kept saying something about the experiments," I said, "But it was in a weird context, like he was referring to them as people. Saying he needed to feed them... That guy is very...crazy."

Sebastian seemed very far away when he spoke, "Not as much as you'd think."

Finally, I suppose he decided he'd heard enough because he nodded at me after a moment. "It is interesting to see how much information you've gathered on the subject. I knew all of it, of course. This was a sort of... test run, for you. But you've discovered more than I thought you would. Grout is harboring quite a few humans, whom he then turns into vampires, and they end up like Dominic. Although, admittedly Dominic ended up quite well compared to some of the others, health wise. Most of them end up dead. The argument we had was over this. I am trying to stop it. It is a matter of the security of the masquerade. This many humans disappearing will eventually make the police suspicious," Sebastian said it like it was an excuse, but I could see the real reason in his impassioned glare. Maybe Lacroix had a heart after all.

"But Grout seems to be... extremely attached to the idea of doing these experiments. I am considering..." he stopped himself, suddenly, as if he'd said more than he meant to. He looked at me meaningfully, "I'm not sure I should tell you this, but I am considering...the...assassination of Grout."

The silence after that was heavy, filled with the trauma of learning someone might be murdered. But I had to agree, for once, that he deserved it. I just had one question.

"Why won't you give him a trial?" I asked.

"Grout is very clever, but not clever enough it seems as he has damned himself to this fate," Sebastian said, "He's made it impossible for me to do that."

Probably through blackmail, I realized. That's how most things in politics are done.

We spent the rest of the car ride in our respective heads, thinking. Or at least, that's what I was doing. I didn't even pretend to know what went on in the head of my boss.

* * *

If I said I didn't think about it, I'd be lying. Having a crush on somebody fucks with your head unlike anything else. On a prescription medication level. In some ways, I think it's the ultimate form of control over someone, if you can get them to like you.

I mean, I knew my basic motor skills turned to crap in the presence of Lacroix. I had a permanent speech impediment; I was distracted more than an ADD diagnosed ten year old, not to mention the queasy, sea sick feeling. It was like having the fucking flu. Just think if we could turn that into a weapon. Chemical warfare.

And then there was that little hopeful voice, probably the ghost of a friend with horrible advice from Jr. High. You know, the one that goes, 'you should tell him you like him. What's the worst that could happen, huh? He probably likes you back...'

And I wanted to bitchslap that little annoying voice because first of all, this was NOT Jr. High, in fact, I was starting to debate if this was reality anymore. And secondly Sebastian Lacroix did not and would not see me as anything more than a source of amusement, at best.

So, don't get me wrong, I thought about the crush I had on Sebastian, but at the same time, it wasn't an obsession. It was just too stupid. I knew that if I let this thing fester in my head, it would end up with me getting hurt.

It was like loving someone who was already married. Sebastian was, in a way, completely faithful to his work. I would always, _always _come second.

I knew better than to get involved with _that_...

So why did I want to so bad?

* * *

Luckily for me, when we got back Sebastian was preoccupied with that ship on the news. He spent some time ranting about it to me. I couldn't imagine why he cared so much, but he had a nearly maniacal look in his eyes, like he wanted the Ankarian Sarcophagus far more than was healthy to.

I was listening intently, not because I cared about the stupid ship, but because it's nearly impossible not to when Sebastian is making a speech. Even when it's a speech mostly directed to no one in particular, one that he makes alone in his office. His voice is hypnotic. He doesn't even need the domination power. He could make anybody do anything. He could probably be the next Hitler, if he wanted to.

Sebastian told me about this time the news anchors got sundown wrong. Vampires get their info from the news, you see... so the news people predicted sunset later or accidentally screwed up their numbers, or something. Anyway, it started like 30 minutes earlier than usual and 15 vampires walked out into the sun and were burnt to death before Lacroix figured it out and told everybody.

They blamed him, of course.

Lacroix slipped back into work mode after that, only making the occasional remark about paperwork. I didn't really listen, letting my mind wander.

But then he said something that snapped me back to reality, "eleven-fourteen-oh eight," it was an absent minded mention of what he was writing. He was dating a paper, probably right before signing it. He hardly muttered it. I could barely hear him. Still, it was alarming enough to make me jump.

"What did you just say?"

Sebastian looked up, alarmed probably at the intense, insane whiny quality of my voice.

"The...14th?" he repeated in an uncertain voice, his gray eyes scanning my face carefully.

I leaned forward, "Of _November?_"

"Yes..."

I look away, calculating. I couldn't believe it.

"My birthday's in two days," I muttered.

Sebastian gave me a look of mild annoyance. Thats it? Thats the big catastrophe? He looked back down at his desk, "Well not technically anymore. You don't age now."

"But I forgot it. I forgot my own birthday," My voice sounded lost, even to my own ears. I didn't know who I was anymore. I was forgetting vital parts of my identity. Time was slipping from me. It seemed like yesterday when my birthday was a few months away.

"It's easy now," he sighed, clearly uninterested in my newfound distress. He probably didn't even count birthdays anymore.

I opened my mouth to ask him, but he answered before I could.

"Birthdays are illogical to remember," His voice still had that airy quality of a sigh, like he wasn't really thinking, just talking.

I stared at him, hoping he would see my confused look, but he didn't look up from his desk.

I had to build up enough nerve to do it, but finally I said, in the smallest voice possible (and that's pretty small for me), "I disagree. I think birthdays are more important than ever to remember now." I was careful not to be defiant sounding.

Sebastian glanced up, in passing. "And... why is that?" He turned a page in the paperwork he was doing.

I was quiet for a minute, thinking. You don't debate with someone with a mind like Sebastian's, one built for arguing, and not have sound reasoning.

"With vampirism it's impossible judge someone by the amount of years they've lived. There's no way to tell if someone is in the state of mind of a teenager or a senior citizen... unless you know their true age."

Sebastian put his pen down, and looked up. His face was suddenly very interested. I swallowed. Now that he was looking at me, I wasn't so sure I could do this. I wondered if he'd play along or get offended.

"Juliet, you would have been 19 yes?"

I nodded.

Sebastian stared at me for a few more seconds, his face unreadable.

"Its odd..." he said finally, "that you are so young. The idea is actually quite mind boggling."

He went back to his work, and it looked like that was all he was going to say.

* * *

Monday was a rush of excitement. It was the day of the interview with Forbes magazine, and Lacroix's attention was preoccupied. It was easy to slip away from the office. It was probably what was expected of me anyway- to leave. I waited until the cafeteria was empty to make the phone call to Grout's mansion.

* * *

"I don't understand... How is that possible?" my voice was a distressed whine that echoed through the empty cafeteria.

"It shouldn't be," Dominic intoned over the speaker in the plastic pay phone. I gripped the thing so hard my knuckles turned white and my hands hurt.

"Your DNA is like a snake, twisting, choking a vine. There are too many... links. Something is wrong with your blood."

"But I'm not thin blood-"

Dominic cut me off, hissing over the phone, "The apocalyptic ones, do not speak the dreaded name."

I felt like screaming at him that there were more important things right now than his stupid superstition, but I kept my temper in check with a deep gulp of air...barely.

"Please, just answer me."

"No, you are not with the curse of the apocalypse. Your DNA, it has many strands, many sires. I wish I could help you further seek your cure in the abyss of bloods, but I can do no more."

Many strands, many sires? The phrase played over in my head until it was ingrained there.

I breathed a sigh of frustration, "Thank you, Dominic. At least now I know."

"Yes," he said quietly, "I must go. My time is up The experiments cry for food."

I shuttered involuntarily at that, and my voice softened, "Yeah...stay safe, Dominic."

And the line went dead.

I hung up the phone and leaned against the wall, my mind reeling. I was so confused. I didn't know what to do to fix this mess. Something was terribly wrong with my blood, and if I didn't figure out what, I'd probably end up dead.

"What did you do to me, Lacroix?" I asked the empty cafeteria.

To my surprise, it answered back, "I don't know," a voice said, "What did I do?"


	15. Gary

I froze, hand still grasping the phone like a lifeline.

It wasn't Lacroix's voice, I knew that immediately. It was a mocking imitation, fake french accent and all, but one that couldn't possibly be made seriously. It was meant to freak me out I guess...but it didn't. I knew Lacroix's voice too well.

All the same, I couldn't seem to let go of the small amount of comfort from my hand closed around the cool plastic phone. That voice, obviously male, sent a shiver down my spine. I'm not big on people watching me when I don't know they're there. And this voice was horrible, like something from a low budget horror film where they're trying too hard.

The phone made a weird clicking sound, and I looked at it, startled. It was my hand shaking. I slammed it down before it could begin making that annoying redial tone.

A gravelly laugh rang throughout the cafeteria, sending another shock wave of goosebumps down my arms.

I spun around, a little angrily, but stopped short.

The cafeteria was empty.

For a minute I thought maybe my blood deprived mind had imagined it, but then the voice came again, out of nowhere, but startlingly close to my ear.

"How is Lacroix treating his little pet? Do indulge me, dear... I simply love gossip."

I stumbled away from what I thought was the direction it was coming from.

"Where are you? Show yourself," I demanded, my voice small. I was vaugely aware that it sounded like something from a HBO special, but it was all my terror-clouded mind could come up with. I guess I'm not so creative under stress.

"Well that wouldn't be much fun, now would it?"

I tried not to flinch at the unexpected movement of the voice around the room, and tried to think rationally instead.

Most likely this is a nosferatu, or a malkavian. I couldn't think of any other bloodlines with obfuscate. Probably the Nosferatu, I decided, because of the rather... gravely state of the voice, and the amount of time they'd been able to remain invisible.

After a moment's thought, I decided maybe I was taking this whole thing the wrong way. It seemed like I had the leverage; sure he was invisible, but I was the one with the information he wanted.

"If you'd like to negotiate for more information, I'd highly suggest you take a visible form," I said in my most steady voice.

"W_ell_, who's making the orders now?" his voice was drenched in sarcasm. Then, as if it was the confirmation he was seeking, "You _must_ be Lacroix's new little plaything. Rather plain for someone with his tastes, but you do share the same..." his voice took a disgusted edge, "venture attitude."

I decided that I disagreed wholly with that statement."If you're done insulting me..." I said angerly.

"Yes, of course, _Princess_," he sneered back.

Prince and princess. Ha. Clever.

Then, right in front of me, a man appeared. No, not a man, at least not at first glance. I realized I should've prepared myself for it when I let out an involuntary yelp.

The gnarled hand shoved itself over my mouth before I could blink, and I pushed it away in revulsion.

Indeed, standing before me was the most grotesque thing I'd ever seen. The business suit he wore contradicted the rest of him so thoroughly that it was almost hard to look at.

"I guess I should have warned you about my face," he said.

I didn't see what was so funny about that, but it made the nosferatu cackle loudly and uncontrollably, he thought it was so funny. It was a joyless laugh, a sarcastic cackle.

I glared, the initial surprise of his appearance fading away, and this time when I struggled away from his grip, he let go.

I suppressed the urge to wipe my mouth with the back of my sleeve. I already felt a little bad for insulting him, even if he is incredibly irritating. He probably got that enough. It wasn't like I could blame him. I couldn't imagine being a nosferatu would give anybody a sunny disposition in the morning.

"What do you want?" I asked, as civilized as I possibly could. He was so much taller than me, I had to strain my neck to look him in the eye.

"Not even going to allow me to introduce myself, princess?" he asked with a smirk.

"Fine." I snapped, "Who are you?"

"Gary, and it is a pleasure to meet you, let me assure you, miss...?" He snatched my hand and brought it to his lips with a chaste kiss. I tried to hide the horror on my face, although I doubted he was doing it seriously, it was still disturbing.

"Juliet," I stuttered back.

"Is that your name, or have you developed a sudden s-s-speech impediment, my dear?"

I ground my teeth, and snatched my hand away from him. "I don't know, is there anything you can say that isn't sarcasm?"

We stared each other down for a moment, with me losing miserably, being so short and... not scary looking.

Finally Gary broke the silence with a small chuckle, "Fine, keep your secrets, fledgling. I'm not here to bargain."

I felt like thanking him, as ridiculous as that sounded, for the simple fact that I knew Gary could make me talk if he'd wanted to.

Instead I asked, "So why are you here, then?"

"I owe your prince a favor, and I have a bit of a warning for him...Pass this little tidbit along from Gary, would you?"

I nodded, anything to get this guy to leave.

"Your prince is in danger of an attack of sorts."

"What?" I tried not to show how badly I'm freaking out, but my voice betrayed my panic, "From who?"

"The sabbat, of course," Gary chuckled, and then disappeared with a sweep of his hand.

I didn't know whether to trust Gary or not. I didn't even know who he was at that point, that he was a member of the primogen. But I did know that I couldn't take chances, and so I ran as fast as I could to the elevators.


	16. An Interview With A Gun

"There is no hunting like the hunting of a man, and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never care for anything else thereafter."

-Ernest Hemingway

* * *

I fully intended to interrupt Lacroix's interview with the magazine, and I was pumped up, ready to do it, in full blown panic by the time the elevator let me on.  
But then my rational side took over and I realized that storming into an office full of humans and screaming 'VAMPIRE ATTACK!' might not be such a brilliant idea. Especially when Lacroix found out there was no actual attack going on at the time- that I'd just gotten the information from a random Nosferatu in the cafeteria.

But if the sabbat really were attacking, where were they already?

The question haunted me as I stepped into the elevator, and I couldn't ease the feeling that something was wrong.

* * *

The men from the magazine were tall, broad-shouldered types, teeming with muscles. I was convinced one of them was going to break the chair he sat in. They both glared at Lacroix in the same suspicious way.

I'd meant to slip quietly into the room, but as soon as I opened the door, all three men's heads snapped up to stare at me, as if I had just pranced in naked.

The tension in the air was nearly tangible.

"Sorry to interrupt," I mumbled, "There's an emergency, and ah...I really need to speak with you, Mr. Lacroix." It was strange using such formalities but I was supposed to be a worker here, and workers were formal.

"You, girl." one of the burly men addressed me, and pulled out something from his jacket that I couldn't quite make out until it was pointed at me.

A gun.

"Shut the door behind you," he instructed.

I stood there for a moment, unable to breathe. I couldn't think, all I could do was repeat in my head: why did they have a gun?

"Don't fucking test me, demon," the man cocked the gun threateningly, and I jumped, waking from my trance.

It occurred to me then that there had been no interview. It had all been a setup, a very clever way to get into Lacroix's office.

...and we were fucked.

I shut the door carefully without turning my back to them.

"Now walk over to the desk, real slow," the man waved the gun in the general direction he wanted me to go.

"This gun is a vampires worst nightmare. Just ask Lacroix over here. He had to learn the hard way," the man laughed, a bitter, humorless sound.  
I glanced at Lacroix and noticed he was leaning against the desk for support, like he couldn't sit up on his own.

The man stopped laughing suddenly, and frowned, the lines in his forehead like canyons, "You do anything funny and I shoot your motherfucking brains out. You got that, you little fuck?" the man seemed nearly bipolar in his moods. One moment he was laughing, the next pissed. He was clearly unstable.  
I nodded, and slowly made my way to stand beside Lacroix's desk. As I got closer, I could see the blood, dripping from his chair and making a crimson pool on the floor.

My mind buzzed with panic.

"Okay, now what's this about an emergency?" the man holding the gun waved it around, using it as a prop as he spoke.  
He watched me expectantly.

I glanced at Lacroix. If I told them the truth, they'd know, but so would he.

"Our...rivaling company... the ...Sabbat Industries are planning a...a...wide takeover of several of our stocks..." I made it up on the spot, and I was kind of proud. Like I've said, I'm not very creative under pressure.

"oh, yes..." the man with the gun clapped his hands, "very impressive. Very sneaky. You must think you're so damn smart. Oh those stupid hunters don't know about the Sabbat. Nooooo..."

The man scoffed, and then got up from his chair, and stopped to stand in front of me, leaning close to my face, "Let me tell you something, you sick little abomination. I've spent my entire life studying you. I know everything about you. Everything."He hissed the last word and I winced, leaning away from him. His breath was horrible. I wished I had a tic tac to offer him.

"The Sabbat rumors were a diversion," Lacroix said softly, "Why do you think the sheriff is gone?"

"You shut up!" the man whirled around pointing the gun at Lacroix, "Unless you want me to shove some of these bullets up your ass, you fucking leech."

Lacroix looked annoyed, but said nothing.

I wondered if he has a plan. I really hoped he did because I didn't. But he looked so woozy and as I looked at the expanding circle of blood surrounding his desk, I felt sick. There was something terribly wrong.

Suddenly there was a massive explosion below us, and the floor shook. I yelped, and glanced around the room.

"That's more like it," the man with the gun said with a wide smile.

The hunter beside him, the one that had stayed quiet, got up, "She's here, boss. Can you handle these two alone?"

The man with the gun nodded, and his partner left. The door clicked shut behind him.

Seconds after, a window behind us shattered. Shards of glass sprinkled the floor.

A woman came in through the window, and it was all I could do to not stare. She looked like a ninja. Every part of her was covered in black spandex, including a mask over her face. There was a crossbow slung across her back.

She quickly took the ninja mask off her mouth and I could see that she had a beautiful, deadly face. There is a small scar over her cheek.

"Jeez," the man with the gun said, "Could you be any more dramatic?"

She ignored him and walked over to Lacroix, hands on her hips, and stared at the puddle of blood inching closer to her feet.

"Jackie, what the hell," she said between clinched teeth. She turned to look at the man with the gun, narrowing her eyes in anger.

"It was getting out of hand. The fucker was fighting back! I had no choice," He stuttered, holding his hands up in defense. This man, Jackie, seemed clearly afraid of the woman.

"Look, Bach says he wants Lacroix alive. If he dies on the way there, you're taking the blame," she responded.

"Gotcha."

"And who the fuck is this?" the woman waved a hand in my direction.

"Oh, just some employee who accidentally walked in here. Pretty unlucky coincidence for her, huh?" Jackie laughed darkly.

The woman narrowed her eyes in my direction, "there's no such thing as coincidence."

I swallowed.

"But I suppose it won't matter long." She flashed a smile in my direction, "Kill her."

"Gladly, boss." said Jackie, who was still uncomfortably close to me, and I winced as he pressed the gun to my head.

"Wait," Lacroix called out, his voice strained. Everyone turned to look at him. He was leaning over the desk, grimacing.

The woman held up a hand to Jackie. "What is it?" she asked him. "Make it quick."

"You don't want to kill her," he said with some difficulty. "She's my childe."

The woman's eyes widened in surprise, "Oh she is, now?" She turned back to look at me, eyes widening in interest.

Jackie looked annoyed, "Ah, come on. The vampire's bluffing. Let's shoot her."

The woman shook her head, walking closer to me, "Bach will want her alive. We've never had such a _special _relationship in our possession before. It will be interesting to see what he does.." she paused, to smile at me again, "When we torture her."

I shuttered, and took a second to quickly glare at Lacroix. What was he thinking? But Lacroix wasn't thinking at all, I realized. It looked as if he'd passed out.

Or was dead.

No, I pushed that thought away. Not possible.

Still, my eyes lingered over his limp form in worry.

"Fuck," Jackie said, and lowered the gun from my head. He turned to the woman in charge, "Might be easy on the eyes but you aint no fun, darling."

The woman rolled her eyes and pulled out a silver revolver from a pocket in her spandex.

I was certain she had changed her mind and was going to shoot me, but then she pointed the gun at Jackie and promptly shot him in the leg. He collapsed to the floor, and yowled in anger, cradling his calf and sprinkling the floor with even more blood. This place was going to look like a massacre after this was all said and done.

"You bitch!" he yelled at her.

He'd dropped the gun he was holding on the floor and it sat idly by my feet. I stared down at it in indecision.

The woman smiled at Jackie, "Sorry Jackie, but I can't let you take all the credit for this. As far as anyone knows, I caught Lacroix single handed... plus," she cocked the gun and pointed it at his head, "there was such an awful struggle. That monster killed you." she pulled the trigger, and Jackie collapsed, eyes wide. Dead.

The woman laughed to herself, and turned toward the window, her back to us.

This was an opportune moment.

I bent down and picked up the gun, hands shaking. As I held it, I realized that I had no clue how to use the thing. God, why didn't I take that marksmanship class in high school?

I glanced over at Lacroix. To my surprise, he was sitting up. The pool of blood on the floor was looking more like a river. Our gazes met and I was relieved to see his eyes were still sharp and attentive, for now at least.

I crossed the few steps between us as quietly as I could, shooting cautious glances back at the hunter, and dropped the gun in his lap.

His hand closed around the grip, smearing the shiny metal with his blood.

There was a whirring sound outside and a white blur moved past the broken window. A helicopter. The woman turned around, grinning ear to ear, so I figured it can't be anyone helpful.

"Let me help you up, prince." she laughed to herself, and walked over to Lacroix, grabbing his shoulders and yanking him from the chair.

And then her face went blank with surprise as the gun was pressed to her stomach.

I smiled.

"Good riddance," he said simply and the sound of gunfire rattled off the walls. For a moment, I cheered in my head, thinking she had been injured, but then she started laughing.

"How stupid do you think I am?" she knocked against her skin tight spandex, some type of armour, I realized, "vampire proof, and bullet proof."

She grabbed at the gun, but Lacroix has a much stronger grip than her. A small struggle ensued and I heard a loud crack, but not from the gun. The woman screamed, holding her twisted hand to her chest.

She glared at him, with dark murderous eyes. She pulled out a gun of her own, a copy of the one in Lacroix's hand, and so quick I couldn't see it, she shot Lacroix again in the chest. More blood oozed from his wounds, his skin unable to knit itself together.

Lacroix's knees buckled and he collapsed to the floor, unmoving. Panic rose in my throat, choking me.

The woman laughed, "Is that the best you've got, Lacroix? Pathetic." She paced away, toward the window, jumped out on the ledge, and begins talking to someone above her. I tuned them out.

I crossed the room, and kneeled down beside Lacroix. His eyelids fluttered open and I felt a heavy weight lift from my chest. He was still conscious, still alive.

I let out a breath I hadn't known I was holding.

Lacroix stared up at me, and put a hand over his mouth, coughing into it. When he took it away, blood stained his fingertips.

"You must go while you have the chance to escape," he said, his voice raspy.

A small smile touched my lips at the absurd suggestion, "I'm not just going to leave you here."

An irritated look crossed his face, "Yes you are."

The smile faded, "No I'm not."

His jaw tightened in the way it always did when he was really angry.

"Please, Lacroix... You'll bleed to death." I couldn't believe I had to plead to him about this. I held out a wrist to him, "Here, take some of my blood."

He looked disgusted at the concept, but I could tell that his resolve was slipping in the sleepy, slow way he was blinking.

"It's too late for that," he said, his voice wavering. "Come closer," he commanded.

I did, knees pressed against the cold floor, leaning over him, trying to ignore the overpowering, sickly smell of his blood.

He slowly sat up on his elbows, wincing, hand painting streaks of crimson across the floor.

What was he doing?

I had barely finished the thought before Lacroix's cool hand was pressed to my cheek. I jumped at the contact.

Then his face was impossibly close, and his lips were shockingly cold against mine. It happened so fast I could barely register it was happening. The kiss lasted only a few moments before Lacroix's lips trembled under mine and he moaned in pain, pushing me away and doubling over.

"Leave," he said again, staring at the floor.

I sat there, frozen to the spot in disbelief. He must be really losing a lot of blood, I decided.

"Why won't you let me help you?" I asked quietly. I could feel my anger rising at him, "You're so god damn stubborn that you'd rather die?"

"I'm going to frenzy soon," he said, ignoring me.

"Good," I replied, "You'll have no choice but to drink my blood then."

His head shot up, a warning glare. Oh how many times I'd seen that look before. His eyes smoldered at my disobedience.

"Don't be an imbecile," his voice shook horribly and he couldn't say anymore, but I knew what he meant.

Frenzying made vampires twice as strong, twice as fast, twice as desperate to live. It was a last ditch effort to obtain blood before final death. There was a good chance that if I stuck around, he'd drain me.

I'd just have to take that chance.

It was in that moment that I realized I would die for Lacroix.

And I nearly did.


	17. How to Save a Life For Dummies

The hunter stepped down from the window ledge, and clapped her hands together like an over enthusiastic cheerleader.

"Okay the helicopter is ready for takeoff," she said.

I didn't know much about hunters. Trust me, my knowledge was nearly non existent. But I did know that if we got on that helicopter, we wouldn't be coming back... at least, not alive anyway.

I could see it in the hunter's eyes- the pure, maniacal hatred-filled joy. They would torture us and they would enjoy it.

I had to think of something- and fast. Something that would save us.

"Uh... Lacroix," I pointed a finger at his limp form on the floor, "He is in no condition to travel. In fact, if he gets on that helicopter, I'm sure he'll die before we get there." I was grasping for straws. I didn't sound very convincing, not even to my own ears.

"I used to be a nurse," I lied, "I know this stuff."

The hunter sighed. "Look, once you are on that helicopter, you're no longer my responsibility. I don't get paid for the helicopter ride, okay? That's somebody else's fault if you die up there."

She seemed to think for a moment, and added, "Besides, I've seen where they're taking you... You should be happy if he dies in the helicopter. It will save him a lot of pain and torment and as for you, well, tough luck."

She laughed, and then went silent, thinking, and I tried to take the time to think too, but my brain was toasted. My nerves were fried. I couldn't come up with anything that would get us out of this, and maybe there was nothing.

"Okay," she said, "Time to go."

"No," I spared Lacroix one last glance before getting up. He had officially passed out, "If you want to get us to go, you're going to have to make us." My voice sounded much braver than I felt.

I had no other choice but to fight this woman, but I had no weapons, and no skill to use them. I looked around the room helplessly for something, anything that I could use as a weapon.

It was then that the metal stake sitting on Lacroix's desk caught my eye. It wasn't exactly a good weapon, at least not against a gun, but it was something.

I crossed the small distance quickly and picked it up, holding the pointy end away from me. The last thing I wanted to do was accidentally stab myself.

"Ah ah ah," the hunter said in a reprimanding tone, as if speaking to a child, "Hasn't anyone told you not to bring a knife to a gun fight?" She giggled, clearly amused at her own corny joke.

Before I could blink, I heard a gun fire and something sharp and hot went through my hand and sent the stake flying across the room, clattering to the floor some feet away.

It took a few seconds for the pain to catch up with me. The skin on my hand popped and sizzled and I hissed between clinched teeth.

The vampire hunter giggled to herself, "You like that? Its something I came up with myself, actually."

She examined the gun almost lovingly.

I watched my hand begin to blacken, struggling not to panic. This must be what's happening to Lacroix's insides, I thought. The bullet made it impossible for the wound to close up. It kept inflicting damage, even embedded in my skin. I knew that if I didn't remove the damned thing, my hand would fall off.

I began the painstaking process of digging it out, shoving my fingers into the wound. The task was nearly impossible because the bullet burnt my fingers, like touching a hot stove.

The hunter laughed at my sad attempts. "I'm going to give you one more chance to do this the easy way." she cocked the gun threateningly, "Or you can both go on stretchers, I don't really care."

I had nearly given up when a set of footsteps sounded behind me. Familiar footsteps, had they not been so uneven and noisy.

I could tell from the hunter's expression that it was Lacroix standing behind me, and that he was frenzying. I had a few seconds, at the most to get out of his way. I immediately dove under the first thing I saw- Lacroix's desk, hoping that he would forget about me and go after the hunter.

I sat hunched under the desk, breathing hard, eyes shut tight. When nothing happened, I tentatively opened them. It had worked. Lacroix was not pursuing me, but instead must have gone after the hunter. The sounds of the battle were in his favor, the hunter cursing and crying out in pain.

But I had to wonder how long would he last. He had sustained so many injuries.

I felt so helpless. Every way I looked at it, there was no way to help him.

If I let him feed from me, he'd bleed me dry, and it wouldn't even help because of the bullets that never allowed him to heal. I coddled my own hand to my chest. Blood was running down my arm, but in small streams. No major blood loss...yet.

I found myself in a state of indecision, which I hardly ever found myself in...not that I was ever allowed to make the decisions in the first place...

I peeked my head over the table, watching the battle play out. Lacroix was randomly lashing out at the hunter like an aggressive dog with rabies. A trail of blood shone on Lacroix's usually shiny, clean golden floors. With a cringe, I noted most of it was his blood. But he was certainly stronger than the hunter in this state and he was able to drink some of her blood before she rolled away from him.

The woman didn't even have time to reload her gun, thankfully. If she could, I knew the battle would be over quickly. A single shot to Lacroix's exposed head would kill him.

Then Lacroix began to get tired, his movements sloppy. He started missing her by a few feet. He seemed to be having trouble standing; his legs wobbling underneath him.

When he passed out, his body came crashing down to the floor in a splatter of crimson.

The hunter, bruised and cut up, loaded her gun with a sadistic smile.

The time that I had a choice in what to do had passed. I had to do something now, before Lacroix's head was shot off. But before I could expose myself to the fighting pair, something just short of miraculous happened.

Nines Rodriguez walked through the door.

* * *

What is with this guy always saving people?

I had no idea how Nines had gotten there or why. He burst through the doors, guns blazing. It seemed that he had taken out the hordes of hunters down in the lobby, although for what purpose I couldn't say. I would think he would be happy to see the Prince die, but maybe Lacroix dying by way of hunters wasn't exactly good news for anyone in the city.

I scrambled out from under the table just as he fired a few rounds into the hunter's head. She crumpled to the ground, and, in less than a minute, it was over.

Guess we should have thought about doing that when we had a gun... but in Lacroix's defense, he was badly injured. And I was just unskilled. Well, okay he was a little unskilled with guns too.

Nines turned next to Lacroix, who was out cold on the floor. I saw what his intentions were immediately, even before he muttered, "time to die."

He cocked his pistol and pointed it at Lacroix's head.

"No, wait!"

I crossed the distance, in a run, and stood between them, his gun jabbing into my side.

"Please," I breathed.

Nines looked angry at first, the lighting playing shadows on his face, his eyes two dark unforgiving holes.

"Who's side are you on, huh? Lacroix doesn't give a shit about this city or you or anybody but himself. You want to let this fascist, power-hungry fucker live?" he spat, disbelievingly.

I bit my bottom lip, trying to plead with him without saying anything. Maybe Lacroix was a bit self-centered, but he didn't deserve to die.

Nines eyed me, with only a moment's hesitation.

The silence was deafening. Yes, I thought, but I couldn't say it.

"I'm sorry, Juliet," he said, his voice gentle, "I can't do that."

He moved around me, determined.

I grabbed his arm, pulling the gun out of his hand. I didn't really expect him to allow me to do so. He was stronger than me, certainly strong enough to keep a hold of the gun if he'd wanted to. Panic rose in my stomach as I pointed it at him, "Please. I don't want to have to shoot you."

Nines stared at me in disbelief. "You know you can't kill me." he stated. It wasn't a question. Even if I did shoot Nines, he would be fine. He could probably throw me across the room as easily as if he were lifting a pencil.

"Why would you die trying to save Lacroix?"

I could almost see the gears in his head turning.

"You love him, don't you?"

I looked away.

His mouth fell open and he sucked in a deep breath, "Oh my god. I don't believe this." He laughed bitterly, "You poor bastard."

His accusing gaze burned me.

"You can put down the gun now. I'm not going to kill him," Nines smiled, but this time it wasn't so bitter, "not today anyway."

I handed him the gun back, and smiled. "I don't know how to thank you," I said.

"What happened to your hand?"

I followed his gaze to the gaping hole in my palm. I'd almost forgotten about it.

"These bullets... something's not right with them." I mused to myself, "They burn like crazy." I met Nines worried eyes.

"Bullets did this?" he held up the appendage, inspecting it. "we got real problems if the entire vampire hunting community has these."

I nodded in agreement.

He dropped my hand and we shared a nervous look.

"Well, I wouldn't stick around here too much longer if I were you," Nines said.

I felt my brows furrow, "Why?"

"Well for one thing, that window over there is broken and sunrise is in a few minutes."

I glanced at the window.

"Not to mention the hunters. There's no such thing as one hunter, not in this city. They'll be more."

I glanced at the motionless body of the hunter, and shuttered.

* * *

Hauling Lacroix's unconscious body to the basement of the large office building without being seen was nearly impossible. Can you imagine someone my size, a mere 5'1, petite, with absolutely no muscle mass dragging a full grown adult male down 30 flights of stairs?

Yeah.

And with my grief stricken mind, I was hardly rational. I didn't know where to go. I knew he needed medical help but I didn't know how to get it. Everyone was trapped indoors at this hour.

When we reached the sewers, I pulled Lacroix's cell phone out of one of his pockets, thankful that he'd left it there. And also thankful he was asleep. I seriously doubted he'd let me use it under an normal circumstances, or even an emergency. I laughed bitterly and scrolled through the contacts.

It didn't look good.

I didn't know who any of the people on his phone were, or better yet, which were kindred.

Finally I ran across Mercurio's name, and gasped aloud. Mercurio! Why hadn't I thought of it before? He would probably help save Lacroix. After all, he was his ghoul.

I pressed the call button.

* * *

It only took him a few minutes to get downtown. I just prayed he'd be able to find us in the sewers. I couldn't imagine Mercurio trekking through sewer water in any stretch of the imagination. Finally I heard sloshing and grumbling from the northern end of the sewers.

Mercurio's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when he saw Lacroix propped up against one of the sewer pipes, bleeding and unconscious.

"Holy shit. What the hell happened in that office?" His face went white.

"It's a long story. I need you to take out some bullets. They... burn vampires. I don't know if you'll be resilient or not.."

I showed him my hand.

"I'm no doctor, Juliet," he warned.

I shrugged.

His hands were warm on mine, and I could feel his heartbeat on my skin.

Then he dug his fingers into my wound, a moment of excruciating pain, and Mercurio pulled out a bullet, grinning apologetically.

* * *

"One of the most wondrous and terrible properties of kindred vitae is it's ability to enslave nearly any being that drinks of it three times. Each sip of a particular kindred's blood gives the kindred in question a greater emotional hold over the drinker. If a victim drinks three times from the same kindred, she falls victim to the state known as blood bond. Put simply, blood bond is one of the most potent emotional sensations ever known."

-Vampire: the Masquerade Bloodlines

* * *

Lacroix's wounds took several hours.

Despite of the seriousness of the situation, when Mercurio began unbuttoning Lacroix's shirt, my face turned a dark red and I had to look away.

There were four bullets eating away at his chest, and they were all embedded in deep. He had so little blood that I was surprised he wasn't dead. We weren't sure how much more blood he could safely lose. We knew it would require makeshift surgery, which meant more cutting, and more blood loss.

Mercurio suggested we wait until night, so that at least we wouldn't have to do it in this dark sewer. But night was 14 hours away, I argued, and by that time he would have lost just as much blood as if we'd operated on him. Not to mention, he'd be missing a torso.

The only option I could come up with was a terrible one. He'd probably kill me for it later if he ever found out about it. Nevertheless, it was our only option. I swore Mercurio to secrecy, then pushed his fangs into my wrist, flooding his mouth with my blood. I watched in morbid fascination as he instinctively sucked it up.

I allowed him to take as much as I could before I began feeling woozy.

Mercurio was able to dig out the bullets then, all the while looking sick to his stomach, and Lacroix's flesh began knitting back together. I didn't watch.

And then, two hours later, it was over. I didn't feel safe yet, but at least we weren't in immediate danger anymore. And it looked like Lacroix was going to live.

I spent the next few hours waiting for him to wake up.

I wondered if Lacroix would heal fast enough to travel to the nosferatu's hide away deep in the sewers, but I wasn't sure if they'd be more interested in helping him or killing him. An overwhelming sense of helplessness settled over me as I realized his list of allies was impossibly short.

I hoped he'd wake up soon, so that at least some sense of familiarity would be returned. Him in charge and me following orders. It'd always been comforting- the sense that he was taking care of things, and the absence of that comfort weighed heavily on my shoulders.

I wondered if the blood I'd given him would effect him. A pang of regret settled in my stomach. Sure, I'd saved him, but at what cost?

I wondered about the kiss and if it would change anything. Probably not, I thought sullenly. Lacroix was aware of my feelings for him- they were pathetically obvious, I was sure- and he'd exploited them, using me endlessly to run errands. That was Lacroix, always true to his nature. If there was something that could be exploited for profit, you could be sure that he'd exploit it. Wasn't that business, after all?

Did it matter? He was alive. I sat back, content that at least I had that much. I'd given him a second chance at an afterlife.

Maybe this time it'll be different, I lied to myself.

* * *

A/N: As for the question about fortitude: I guess the idea was that with these bullets they would drain a vampire's blood enough that he couldn't use disciplines, but its a good point to bring up because it never occurred to me to explain.


	18. Waiting for Sunset

To me, the time passed quickly in the sewers, seconds melting into hours. I kept track of time on Lacroix's cell phone. The green glow of the technology was kind of comforting in the gray, damp sewers.

My lips were so chapped they hurt and I was dizzy with hunger. I guess I hadn't realized it until then because I had been so busy with Lacroix's survival and all. I tried to count back the days to when I last fed, but it was so long ago, and my mind was so groggy, that I kept losing the number on my fingers. I wasn't really sure how I hadn't frenzied yet. A sinking feeling accompanied that realization. I wished we were both healthy, in another time and place.

The past few hours, I had avoided looking at Laroix. It made me sick to see him in such terrible shape. I had busied my mind with other things... and there were plenty of other things to think about. But now, at the thought of him, I involuntarily glanced over.

He was looking better. His still form was lifeless, and to all outward appearances dead; save the shuttering breath that tore through him every few seconds. Watching him was nerve wracking, because every pause in his breath, it was easy to imagine it never coming back.

I hadn't allowed myself the liberty of thinking about his death before. It had seemed absurd, and Lacroix had seemed like this impenetrable figure. I realized that's probably what he had wanted me, and the rest of the world to think. Today had proved otherwise. In fact, most of the past few months should have. All I had seen since becoming a vampire was killing, pain, and havoc. How could I be so naive to think that Lacroix was somehow immune to it?

But maybe my naivety wasn't all to blame.

* * *

After some time, I got tired and must have fallen asleep, leaning against the wall. Not exactly the smartest thing to do, in retrospect, when you know you're being chased by hunters, but I was exhausted.

The next thing I knew I was awoken by loud groaning. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, and checked the cell phone that was still nestled in my lap. It was a little over an hour away from sunset.

Lacroix was still laying on his side on the concrete platform across the river of sewer water. He'd shifted in his sleep and was now facing away from me, but I could tell that he wasn't in any pain by the way he moved. Obviously the blood I'd given him had worked.

He stretched, and sighed. Then his memory of the past night's events must have come back to him because he prodded at his chest nervously. But besides dried blood, there were no wounds; no gaping holes. Looking relieved, he pushed himself up to his feet, glancing around.

His appearance made me do a double take. How is it that even while covered in blood, clothing ripped, some people can still look so regal?

He met my gaze and offered a small grimace-like smile.

"What happened?" his voice sounded so weary, I wondered if maybe I was wrong about him being healed after all.

The last time Lacroix was conscious was a long time ago, like before he frenzied. A lot had happened since then. I offered that up as an easy answer.

"You frenzied," I answered simply.

He gave me a level, annoyed look, and I realized that he'd figured that out already. like he was annoyed at having to say anything at all, like I should just read his mind. I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

"The hunter?" he said.

I turned to look across the scope of the sewers in paranoia, as I'd been doing the past few hours.

"Dead," I answered. At least, one of them was, I amended in my head.

"Your doing... I presume?" I could tell he was trying not to act shocked, but was having a hard time at it. I couldn't blame him considering that I didn't even know how to use a gun.

"No. Nines stopped by, actually."

I swear he almost fell over into the sewer water which, admittedly, would have been very funny, but he caught his balance at the last moment.

"Nines Rodriguez? Was in my office? Helping me?" The shock in his voice was almost tangible. He ran a hand through his hair, which hung down over his face, soaked in sweat, or sewer water, or both.

"I wonder why," he mused, but it sounded less like a question, and more like he was ordering me to tell him what I knew.

But, although his gaze was intimidating, I couldn't repeat the desperate declarations I'd uttered over his unconscious body to save his life.

"I don't know," I lied, and hoped he'd leave it at that.

It began to rain. We could hear the gentle pings on the metal grates above us, and it echoed throughout the entire sewer.

The water around us picked up, flowing more quickly, adding to the noise. It was kind of soothing after the tension filled day I'd had, and I realized how tired I still was.

"What happened after that?" Lacroix asked.

I didn't feel like talking but I supposed he had a right to know what had happened to him.

"After Nines left," I decided to omit the part where he nearly killed him, "And I got you to the sewer, I didn't know how to treat your wounds. I had to find someone human to do it, since the bullets burned me."

I finally opened my eyes, the relaxation I'd felt earlier melting away as I got more caught up in my own story. My legs were beginning to fall asleep anyway.  
Lacroix was listening intently. It made sense, he was always interested in anything that had to do with himself.

"So I called Mercurio with your cell phone," I admitted, and realized I was still holding it. He didn't react.

I decided to leave out the part about me giving him my blood, for obvious reasons.

"Mercurio.." Lacroix said appraisingly, as if he were here to hear it.

He laughed to himself, "Ill have to personally thank him."

I had no doubt he was talking about more of a monetary thanks than sentimental. Lacroix wasn't one for sending flowers and candy by express mail, if you know what I mean.

"If it weren't for that ghoul, I'd be dead."

A stab of irrational jealousy washed over me. If it weren't for me, you'd be laying face down in your own blood upstairs, I thought angrily.

"And you," he said, and my stomach tightened, "what would I do without my best representative?"

It sounded so cold and impersonal. So strictly boss-employee, and it settled my stomach back into reality. I wished he'd use my name.

I savored his gratitude anyway, and gave him a small smile.

He smiled back, "I've been thinking... I should give you a promotion."

Disbelief settled over me, even before I could figure out what made me so uncomfortable about that statement.

Promotion? I didn't even know I still worked for him. To the best of my knowledge I had walked out on the only official job I'd ever gotten from him.

It seemed to me like there wasn't one... Lacroix had an agenda for this 'promotion,' like he had for everything else in life. It seemed like he was trying to redefine our relationship in light of his little kissing mistake. Like the awkward morning of a one night stand, when the bachelor tries to escape without waking his sleeping partner.

But what if this was the best it was going to get? Maybe Nines was right, and Lacroix would never be able to love anyone but himself. Maybe I should just take it. On the other hand, I didn't want to work for him at all. I wanted something completely different, completely unattainable in a work environment, and letting him think that I worked for him again wouldn't help.

No. It would be painful. More one-sided pining from me, and denial from him.

That was worse than anything I could possibly gain from it.

I glanced at him.

But how could I tell him that?

He was staring back at me expectantly, waiting for an answer.

I sighed, playing around with the words in my head.

"I...can't work for you anymore, Lacroix," I said finally, my voice barely a whisper. Thank god that sewers echo.

"Because of the hunters?" he asked flatly. He meant the danger, of course, that came with working for him.

I briefly considered saying yes. It would be so much easier to lie. But if I didn't say it now, when would I have another chance?

"No," I swallowed, "It's not that."

"Then why? Do you not enjoy the job?" he asked, frowning, cranky from being turned down. But at least he'd given me a choice this time.

"No, I like it. It's just..." I trailed off, not sure how to say what I meant. This conversation was going in the wrong direction, and I didn't know how to redirect it.

Finally I just asked the question that was burning in my mind from the moment he did it, "Why did you kiss me?"

He was very quiet, and he wouldn't meet my gaze.

"I apologize for that," he said to the wall, "...if it made you uncomfortable. I promise nothing of the sort will happen again."

I closed my eyes, gathering courage, because I knew what I'd have to say. And although what I had to say was very short, it was going to be very hard.

I took a gulp of air, "It didn't."

There was a brief silence in which Lacroix tried to figure out what I was talking about.

"What?" he said warily.

"It didn't make me uncomfortable," I swear to god my voice was so tiny I thought he still couldn't hear it. But he must have, because man, if I thought it was quiet before...

I could hear a mouse skitter across the sewer floor.

Immense relief filled me at having the courage to say what I wanted to, and so I found more courage to break the awkward silence. I figured if I was going to hell, I might as well go all the way.

"You never answered my question," I said.

"...Which one?" His gaze met mine, but I could see it was strained.

"Why did you do it?" I clarified.

He answered immediately, "I thought I was going to die," he said. He still sounded apologetic, and it stung.

"So you just randomly kiss people when you think you're going to die? Is this some kind of vampire tradition I don't know about?"

"No," he said, and then he met my eyes, "I kissed you because I wanted to... I have wanted to," he amended. I felt my heart leap into my throat.

"However, sometimes people find themselves in circumstances that make it impossible to do what they want. Does that make sense?"

It might have been confusing to most other people, but I'd spent so long reading into Lacroix's body language, I understood.

He was married to his work.

I couldn't say I was surprised at his answer.

But that didn't mean I had to like it.


	19. Hotel

We waited until the cell phone's bright green numbers said well after 8pm to leave. We weren't sure when sunset was exactly, but we wanted to play it safe.

Even by the time sunset had rolled around, my hand still wasn't healed from the bullet wound. It looked much better than it had, but it still had a distinctive dent where the bullet had eaten away at my palm. I shoved it in my pocket, but Lacroix followed the motion with his eyes, so I knew my attempt at hiding it hadn't worked.

He didn't ask, and instead began trekking through the ankle high sewer water.

After a few paces, he stopped to ditch the torn up shirt. It looked like it had gone through a meat processor anyway.

I stared at his bare back as we walked. He wasn't a ripped sex god or anything but it was so weird to see him without a suit and tie. His skin was paper white and I could even see the blue veins running up his back. He was even paler than me. I felt the sudden urge to put my hand against his back to compare and see, but managed to restrain myself.

That would be seriously awkward, and at that point, I didn't think either of us could take any more awkwardness.

I had no idea where he was leading us, but it wasn't long until he picked a seemingly random sewer opening, and disappeared into the dark concrete hole.

"What are you doing?" I hissed up at him. I did NOT go through all that trouble to save his ass just to have him walk out onto the streets, probably swarming with hunters, and be killed.

He didn't answer me, and I heard a scraping sound as he pushed the sewer plate open.

I sighed, and followed, hoping he knew what he was doing.

We stepped out onto the street, and the first thing that hit me was the smell. The sewers smell pretty bad. It reminds me of rotting garbage. It's not apparent, at least not at first. It seeps into your clothes, and is only noticeable after you've taken a big whiff of fresh air. Then the difference is like night and day.

Thankfully, we were behind a building, out of sight.

He took in my troubled expression, and sighed. "This is a place designed by the.." he waved his hand around for emphasis, as he thought of the words he wanted to use, "The designated leaders of Los Angeles for emergencies such as this." he acted irritated, as if the very need for him to explain this was a waste of his precious time. I glanced up at the building, looking closer.

It appeared to be a warehouse, and I wasn't sure how a warehouse was supposed to protect us, but unless Lacroix had hit his head a little too hard on the sewer grate coming up here, I knew he wasn't stupid.

I supposed I'd have to trust him.

We entered the warehouse through a door with peeling paint. Inside, it was nothing special. Some of the windows had been shot out, and rats scurried around in the darkness. A few boxes of merchandise left over from whoever had last used it were stacked along the back wall.

Lacroix kept walking, not stopping to look around in the darkness. I followed reluctantly.

In the back of the warehouse was an elevator with a keypad lock beside it. Lacroix punched in a long string of numbers, and the doors dinged open.

My jaw dropped.

Inside the elevator was fancy. Like billionare elevator fancy. There was a small bench to sit down on. In an elevator!

The gold floors gleamed, like they'd been meticulously polished, and as we stepped in, an automated voice said, "Welcome, Mr. Lacroix."

He seemed amused by my expression.

The elevator had a full set of buttons ranging into the thirties, which was weird because the warehouse was only two stories tall, at most.

Even weirder, Lacroix punched the 23ed floor.

Don't tell me this elevator is Willy Wonka style or something, I thought nervously.

It whirred in silence for a few minutes, and then dinged, and let us out.

We stepped out into a hotel lobby, decorated just as expensively as the elevator. How this happened, I had no idea.

It was a huge, grand lobby, with various chairs and couches and low ambient lighting. I had a feeling of low-key excitement stepping into the room, as if I had just witnessed the impossible.

Everything looked breakable and antique. This was exactly the type of place I'd been kicked out of for knocking over $300 vases. I wandered over to the window, and looked out. We were, indeed, on the 23ed floor. A floor that didn't exist. It was just too much.

While I stood over by the window, hyperventilating, Sebastian seemed completely at ease. I supposed this made sense. Everything looked like it was from his 'era' of time. At least 200 years ago, if I remembered correctly. I swallowed, wondering if I'd live that long, and if I did, what would I think when I looked back on this era?

The thought was staggering. Almost incomprehensible.

Lacroix walked up to the front desk, and I tagged along behind him.

"Hello, er... Mr. Lacroix." A sweaty desk clerk smiled a row of clearly human teeth. He looked young and scrawny- too scrawny to be anything but just out of school... maybe even younger than me.

His smile was nervous, and he pulled at his collar like it was choking him.

I wondered what it must be like to have that kind of effect on people by mere presence alone. I glanced up at Lacroix's smirk. He seemed to enjoy it.

"Your room is ready," the man said.

Sebastian nodded absently, and held out a hand for the key.

In addition to the fancy shindigs, I could see security had been stepped up as well. No lone police officer here. Instead there were 6 or 7 bulky vampires who were armed like they were going on a hunting expedition... for elephants. Smoke drifted from one's cigarette and he nodded to Lacroix and I as we passed. I could see a slight downturn of distaste on Lacroix's lips.

Maybe I should take up smoking, I thought mischievously.

Lacroix was leading us to yet another set of elevators. He had to punch in a shorter code this time before the doors would open up. Inside it was identical to the first one.

We stepped inside, and this time Lacroix punched the button for the 60th floor.

He addressed me for the first time since we'd entered the building. "You're going to be meeting the city's primogen tomorrow. An event is to be held here so we will stay for the night."

The elevators doors dinged before he could say more and we stepped off into a hallway.

The 60th floor was all rooms. There had to be like 20 doors, all side by side, which made me think they must be very small rooms.

I still had that vauge tingle of excitement that I couldn't quite place, and it was there that I finally figured it out. I'd felt that before in that irritating hallway in the Tremere clan's house. I'd been there once to deliver something from Lacroix. Didn't Lacroix say something about their bloodline having magical powers or something? I couldn't remember, but that would sure explain this impossible hotel.

Lacroix's room was one of the first doors on the left. He slid the key card in the electronic door lock and it beeped twice and flashed green, signaling that it had worked.

To my immense relief, the room was decorated in a more modern way than the lobby. No fancy breakable lamps here.

It was as large as an apartment, with a sitting room, small kitchen, and two bedrooms off to the sides.

The ceiling was tall, abnormally so. A large modern chandelier hung down, it's glass crystals making pretty patterns of light on the wall.

The wall opposite the front door was completely made of glass. I couldn't stop myself from immediately drifting towards it. Below sat the city, but it was going too fast. The cars were zipping along the roads, making little lines of light. It looked like a window, but there was no way that it was real. I gawked at it for a moment, before tearing my eyes away.

I turned to ask Lacroix about the building, but he was gone, and one of the room's doors was ajar. I sighed and sat down on the leather sofa. There was a large flatscreen TV in the corner. After a quick search for the remote, I turned it on.

It was set on the news. Weird how most TVs were in this town. The news anchor was saying something about the Lacroix building, so I paused in mid channel change to listen.

"...missing and is likely dead, say authorities. There was a large amount of blood on the floor, as well as a woman we now know as Cordelia Bach, daughter of Grunfeld Bach who owns of the church of Leopold. There is some speculation that Cordelia Bach and Sebastian Lacroix had a physical confrontation, and if found alive, he may be charged for her murder. In other news, local star Ash Rivers..."

I stared at the television for a good thirty seconds before what was said really hit me. What a mess.

I heard running water in the room that could only be Lacroix's. He must be taking a shower, what with all that dried blood on him.

At the mention of gore, I looked down at myself and noted the specs of dried blood, and sewer water that had soaked through my pant legs. I got up immediately, feeling bad for sitting on the couch.

Might as well follow suit, I decided.

I left the T.V. On so that hopefully Lacroix would find out from there. I really didn't want to have to be the one to deliver the bad news. Lacroix was known for his 'shoot the messenger' attitude.

I explored the room I presumed was mine for the night. I was surprised to find a fireplace roaring in the corner... or the _illusion_ of one, I reminded myself.

On a hunch I swept my hand across the flames, not surprised to feel nothing but warm air.

The bed was king sized and looked wonderful, but I refrained from immediately jumping into it. I had too much smelly crap on me anyway. I hastened to the bathroom.

A wine bottle sitting on the bedside table made me pause. Wine? What would wine be doing in a vampire hotel?

I picked it up, and read the title._ Blood Mary_. The nutrition label was blank.

I uncorked the top and took a swig. Blood, I realized, but unlike regular blood, this burned my throat, and settled warm in my stomach. Blood mixed with alcohol. I smiled. Weird.

I set the bottle down and headed off towards the bathroom once more.


	20. The Clothing Crisis

A/N: Coffee is the answer to everything. Oh my god thank you coffee.

Also, thanks to my new amazing awesome beta- The Vampire Apple. I think she deserves a metal or something for being so helpful. Too bad I don't have a metal.

* * *

It was only after my shower that I realized that I had no clothes. I couldn't wear the smelly jeans and the bloodstained t-shirt I came in with.

And so began the crisis.

I really didn't want to have to ask Lacroix if I could borrow some of his clothes, which he'd probably had the foresight to stock up on. As much as the thought of wearing Sebastian's clothes appealed to me, I just couldn't waltz across the hall and ask to share jammies.

I began frantically searching the room for something, _anything_ to wear besides the towel wrapped around my body.

But the closet was empty, save for a few plastic hangers. There wasn't even one of those complementary bath robes... some hotel this was.

It looked like I was running out of choices. I glanced at the door.

Maybe I could just poke my head out and ask for some clothes. That wouldn't be so hard.

Oh who was I kidding? It would be hard no matter how I did it... it would just be fractionally less painful that way.

I took a deep breath, wrapping the towel firmly around myself and summed up all the courage I could.

The door creaked as I opened it and I winced. I looked out into a quiet, empty living room. The T.V. had been turned off, which meant that somebody had been there, but they were gone now. I sighed and swung the door completely open.

I hesitated. Maybe I could just sleep without anything on, but what if Sebastian came to wake me up? I glanced at the door knob. No lock.

Plus that wouldn't change the fact that I'd still need to ask for clothes in the morning.

I readjusted my towel again, which, although soft, was feeling shorter and shorter by the minute.

Even though I knew the window wasn't real, I still ducked behind the couch in paranoia, and then felt stupid for doing it.

Getting to Lacroix's door was easier than I thought. Actually knocking?

A different story.

I drew a fist to the door, but it hung there lifelessly, and no matter how much I pushed I couldn't bring myself to do it. It was like the heads of two magnets repelling each other.

_'Okay, come on,'_ I thought to myself, _'you can do this.'_

I stood outside of the door for a few more minutes, staring it down, imagining classic country western gun draw music playing in the background. A tumble weed rolled in the distance...

And then something interrupted my elaborate fantasy.

It was groaning, coming from inside the room. And not the 'oh yeah baby' groaning, the 'ow fuck that hurts' groaning.

Curiosity and concern took over.

And anxiety.

And paranoia...

I imagined Lacroix laying face down on the floor in his own blood.

I knocked on the door, this time without hesitation.

The door opened only a few seconds later, and there was Lacroix, completely unharmed, in a business suit.

___What the hell was he doing in a suit,'_ I wondered,___ 'Does he sleep in that thing or what?'_

Lacroix's face was flushed, and his eyes were red, like he'd been...crying?

No, not crying, I realized upon further inspection, as he stumbled a bit. He was just drunk.

"Juliet?" he said finally, his brows knitting in confusion.

I'd never heard anyone sound so coherent drunk. Maybe it was just the accent.

"Yeah..." I said quietly, stuttering over my words, "I, uh... I don't have any clothes..."

Lacroix seemed to think about this for a minute. The statement no doubt took longer to pass though with his mind muddled with alcohol.

"Ah..." He rubbed at his forehead and winced, like he had a headache. "Yes, my apologies. I must have forgotten."

I'd never heard Sebastian apologize so easily. I mean, I'd heard him say sorry before, but not really unless forced to, or not unless for practical political reasons. Alcohol does weird things, I guess.

"You're welcome to my closet," he said, opening the door wide.

My mind- that pesky logical part- said no. Don't go in there. Don't even think about it. He's drunk, you're in a freaking towel. Connect the dots, idiot.

_What? Nothing's gonna happen..._ I argued to my logical side. But the thought that something possibly could thrilled me more than terrified me. (Although just slightly.)

And so, I moved forward, against my better judgement, and Lacroix stepped out of the way to let me pass.

His bedroom was identical to mine and I didn't pause to look around.

Lacroix led me to his closet, and as I predicted it was full of clothes. Mostly suits.

He stood there, staring at me expectantly.

I bit my lip. Did he really expect me to trifle through his clothing?

Apparently so.

I wandered in, ignoring the drawers that probably contained his underwear. No time for a panty raid. I giggled madly to myself.

I grabbed the nearest regular looking shirt and quickly exited before I could make any more horrible jokes about Lacroix's undergarments.

I waved the shirt in front of his face, "Is this okay?"

He nodded.

I began to turn away toward the door, but he caught my hand. The one holding the shirt, not the one still holding up the towel... just to clarify.

"Wait, Juliet..."

I thought maybe he'd changed his mind about the shirt or something so I turned around impatiently, cursing him under my breath for being so vain.

Then something weird happened. And by weird I mean completely bizzare, beyond belief, INSANE.

He reached out a hand and ran it through my still wet hair. "Have I told you how much I like your new hair color?" he asked.

I swallowed and tried to ignore how good that felt. He's drunk, I told myself. He has no filter. He won't even remember this.

I tried to say something to that effect but it came out as a choked little gasp.

The alcohol on his breath smelled sweet.

His hand untangled itself from my hair and traveled lower to my neck, giving me goosebumps. He carefully began massaging the muscles at the base of my neck.

His fingers were amazing. It felt like burning and ice at the same time. Tingles of pleasure shot down my spine. My knees threatened to buckle. Thankfully I remembered to hold up my towel... but just barely.

If the man could do this with one hand, while drunk...

"You're so tense..." he commented, but I didn't hear it, too absorbed in the feeling of his skin against mine.

I was so distracted, in fact, that when he took my hand- the one that still had the healing scab from the bullet wounds on it, and began inspecting it, I didn't even notice.

I leaned back with a blissfully ignorant sigh.

It was only when he ran a finger over it, and it registered as pain, that I was distracted enough to realize what he was doing.

His fingers paused at the base of my skull, and my head cleared.

I immediately tried to jerk my hand away, but his grip was like steel.

He'd tricked me. It was damn elaborate too. But then again, I'd lied to him plenty of times, too...so maybe it evened out.

Panic gnawed at my thoughts. I'd have to tell him everything now.

He squinted at me, drunken features suddenly serious, "How long ago did this happen?"

I winced as his grip tightened, "Uh... could you not crush my hand please?"

He blinked, and looked down, noticed how tightly he was squeezing my hand, and let go.

I rubbed my hand tentatively, avoiding his gaze.

I didn't really understand why he was so angry. Maybe he thought I was inflicting harm upon myself to keep it from healing.

"Juliet," he said, and his voice had a desperate, hysterical tone to it, "I need you to be honest with me." He paused, and then added under his breath, bitterly, "For once."

I don't think I was supposed to hear that last part, but what did he expect? We were less than a foot away from each other.

Maybe he knew more than he was letting on to. About my lying to him, I mean.

"I'm not going to hurt you, or get angry..." He blinked, and stumbled backwards a bit drunkenly, "Well I might get angry, but I wont yell." he amended.

I scoffed. Yeah right.

"Well, I might yell..." he added when he heard my scoff. He bit his lip. "Uhm... well... That's not the point. You know you are welcome to come to me with your problems...any problems you might have." He finally caught my gaze, and smiled a little.

And as I looked into his eyes, I felt he'd never been more sincere, and I almost did it. I almost told him everything that had happened...Right there.

But then Lacroix passed out.


	21. The Art of Lying

Well… This is what happens when you leave Lacroix and I alone in a hotel room. Someone gets drunk and there's a fight. Couldn't see that one coming, considering our past history.

Though, I had to admit, this fight wasn't like the rest. Maybe it's just the part of me that's still pining over him talking, but I was kind of touched that he made that big of a deal over my hand being hurt.

Maybe it was just because he was drunk (possible) or just that he's always dramatic like that (probable) but a part of me wanted to forget reason and say maybe, just maybe he cared.

Maybe Lacroix wouldn't even remember what had happened tonight, I thought. Sure, it would be weird explaining why exactly I was wearing his shirt. I could almost hear him saying it too, "And why _exactly_ are you wearing that shirt?"

But at least in that scenario, I could leave out large gaping holes in the story. Like, oh I wandered in and you were asleep. Totally. Fib my way through it. Sounds good, right?

The girl in the mirror shook her head.

I really didn't recognize myself. Maybe it was just that I hadn't looked in a mirror in so long, but my face was different. It wasn't just my hair either.

My eyes had dark circles under them. It would take some serious concealer if I ever decided to attempt to hide it. My cheekbones stuck out in an unhealthy way, making me look like I was on heroin.

I honestly couldn't see what Lacroix had said when he complimented me. If anything, the super dark black of my hair, that hung down my back tangled and unstyled, made me look even paler. It didn't help anything. But maybe drug addict was Lacroix's taste.

Speaking of Lacroix, I'd left him passed out where he lay on the floor. I'd been so eager to get the hell out of his room.

And I hadn't been thinking too clearly when I'd grabbed that shirt because I'd come to find that there were a few complications with it.

First was just an annoyance I had- that it didn't smell like whatever amazing cologne he wore. That was kind of something I'd been looking forward to, but since he probably didn't have to stay in camarilla safehouses very often, he'd probably never even worn it.

The second thing that occurred to me as I stood in front of a full length mirror, staring at myself, was how short the damn thing was. Why hadn't I had the foresight to choose something long? I silently berated my reflection for a few minutes.

Probably the worst thing about the shirt was its color. Now, I've never really been one for excessive vanity but it was a white, pinstriped afair that buttoned up. And therein lie problem: white, slightly _transparent. _The ugly pinstripes helped but not much. I decided I'd have to spend the next day crossing my arms.

I supposed I could go back in there and steal another one, but when Lacroix woke up I didn't want to be within an 80 foot radius of him. Even if that meant walking around half naked.

I'd left him face down on the mattress, pretty much where he'd landed when he fainted. I would have tucked him in, but you know, being completely freaked out, I must have forgotten.

* * *

My first thoughts upon awakening that next night had been a jumbled mess: I was too panicked to really be coherent. I rolled over and grabbed the alarm clock like it was my only lifeline. The time said midnight. There was no way, even hung over, that he'd sleep this late.

I'd forgotten to set an alarm, being the dumbass I was. Maybe I could say I got plastered too. Yeah. I tried to calm myself down. I didn't want to go out there damning myself before I even knew the situation. Maybe he wasn't even awake. There was still that tiny chance. I clung to it.

I rolled out of the comfy bed, feeling pretty good, all things considered and having inaccurately convinced myself that me sleeping in didn't matter. I cracked my neck, stretched, and decided it was high time I went bitch at Lacroix about having no clothes.

I turned the doorknob slowly, silently cracking the door open. It didn't make a whisper. But even still, as though he could feel it, Lacroix turned from where he was sitting on the couch, looking mildly up from the TV screen.

At first glance, it all seemed so very normal, so very innocent, and I made the mistake of letting my guard down.

He looked back at the TV, before addressing me, in a bored tone, "Juliet."

Like an obedient puppy, I immediately walked forward. I stopped myself before going into his field of vision to pull at the bottom of the shirt. There. As decent as it was going to get.

Then I hesitated. Should I sit next to him on the couch? It felt weird. Usually he was behind a big desk looking down at me. It felt too equal to sit next to him. I frowned at my own train of thought. Now that probably wasn't healthy.

He looked up at me again, apparently reading my mind, or maybe just my face. "Sit down," he said. Now that I was closer, I could see that the nonchalance he so easily feigned in his body language stopped at his face. Particularly his eyes, which were ablaze with what I could easily see was barely restrained anger.

Oh wonderful.

"Now." He added, his voice clipped.

I sat down immediately, but as far away from him as I could while still being considered _on _the couch. I didn't really know how to sit without exposing some part of myself so I took a few seconds crossing and uncrossing my legs, to find a reasonably uncomfortable, but unrevealing position.

There was a brief silence, which the news anchor filled. Something about Ash Rivers again.

"I see you're up."

"Yes." I said, my voice faint.

He suddenly picked up the remote and held it out to me. I stared at it like it was a bomb about to explode in my face.

"This channel's fine with me," I said.

He narrowed his eyes at me, and I swallowed nervously. Take the remote. Okay.

I reached out, fingers wrapping around the cool plastic. Lacroix's eyes followed my movements with the precision of a hawk.

Then I realized what he was doing. He was discreetly checking out my hand again. He knew I'd use my right hand for the simple task of taking the remote. And just as I thought, now he was disinterested, apparently confirming whatever it was he'd thought.

I ground my teeth. Why couldn't he just ask me? Why did he have to manipulate me into doing everything he wanted?

I dropped the remote on the couch between us without changing the channel.

"If you want to see my hand, just ask."

Lacroix looked at me, his jaw suddenly slack. He licked his lips, and glanced down my arm.

"Yes… I would."

I held out my hand to him, and he took it, lightly trapping my fingers in his. There was nothing interesting about it. It was a scab, plain and simple. But he was intensely interested in it, as if it held all the secrets of the universe. If it did, I wished he'd share some of them.

"Hmm.." he drawled finally, while I busied myself with staring at the TV, not really watching.

He ran a finger over my palm, and I couldn't help but shivering. His touch generally did that. But he must have assumed it was in pain because he immediately dropped my hand.

"I talked to Mercurio," he said.

A flutter of panic ran through my stomach.

"Oh," was all I managed.

"And do you know what he said?" Lacroix asked me, ignoring my oh. He casually adjusted the cuff of his jacket.

"No…" I willed my voice to not shake. There were a whole arsenal of things Mercurio could've told him that he'd promised not to. Fucking ghouls.

"Oh, do indulge me," he commanded, "Guess."

My eyes darted around the room in panic, looking for something to say. "Uh… he's feeling sick?"

I offered met my gaze, and a slow predatory smile spread over his mouth, "He's not yet." He wrung his hands in a vaguely familiar choking motion. I think his hands had been around my neck once in that exact position.

I was pretty pissed at Mercurio for telling Lacriox whatever he had, if he in fact had, but not enough to wish him harm.

"Look," I said, "You don't have to-"

Lacroix effectively interrupted me even with his voice decibels lower than mine. "You lie quite a bit to me," he mused, "Don't you?"

I didn't answer his question because my voicebox had dropped to somewhere in the pit of my stomach. In all truth, I was thinking about lying to him that very instant. But what else did he expect? He was as temperamental as a teenage girl, had the power to kill at his fingertips, and did it without mercy.

I made a small attempt to say this, "I…"

"Tell me Juliet," he said, cutting me off again, "What do you really think of me?"

Oh jeez, where had _this _come from? I kept quiet, hoping maybe it was rhetorical.

He narrowed his eyes at me. Apparently he really expected me to answer.

I searched my mind for something that had nothing to do with my infatuation, but of course trying only made it that much harder. Everything I didn't want to say popped into my head all at once…Stuff involving the words 'beauty' and 'captivating' in the same sentence.

Ugh. I tried to clear my head.

"Um.. I ..I think you're great. UH- I mean, a great… leader, yeah. I think you're a great leader." Smooooth.

Sebastian gave me a dubious look.

"Even now, you lie to me?" he leaned forward, eyes blazing, "After feeding me your own blood." It wasn't a question of if.

I flinched.

Before I could stutter out an excuse, he continued.

"Fine."

He sat back on the couch, his lips pressed together in a thin line, "You think I'm a 'great leader,' What do you dislike about me?"

This question was easier. There was no embarrassing poetry or off limits answers. I just had to be careful of the wording. It was easy to offend him. Like, for instance, I could say 'You're a bossy, self-absorbed asshole.'

But that would probably piss him off.

"I think… you need to…rephrase things.. Sometimes?" I cringed visibly with every word, each one getting softer and softer.

Sebastian stared at me, "How so?"

"Sometimes the things you say come off…in a…in a…way that you probably don't intend."

_"How so?"_

I paused, trying to find an example, "Well…"

I took a deep breath and summed up my courage, "You don't really _ask_ people to do things, you _demand_ them to." My voice had grown very quiet.

"You doubt my diplomacy?"

"No! No, you're very diplomatic," I waved my hands around in the air, like I could erase the words I'd just said.

"See, now you're lying to me again," he said, annoyed.

"ARGH!" my sound of frustration must have come out louder than I intended it to. More a scream of frustration, because he was silent.

"See? This is what I mean. If I don't lie to you, I offend you! Here, you want to know the truth? You're bossy. With everyone. There, I said it!"

It was word vomit, and he'd brought it on himself. I waited for the explosion of rage that was surely coming…

But it never came.

Sebastian just looked back at the TV, and continued watching, as if the entire conversation had never happened. He turned the volume up.

"Wait a minute." I got up from the couch and stood in front of the TV. He gave me an annoyed look.

"That's it?" I said, "You're not yelling. Why are you not yelling?"

His gaze was steady, and his eyebrows lifted in question, "Would you prefer me to?"

"No... I just don't get it."

He shrugged, "Your honesty is refreshing. I'd rather like to keep it this way. If I yelled would you be likely to do it again?"

I slowly shook my head, dumb with surprise.

Me standing there seemed to remind him of something, and he got up from the couch. He disappeared in his room, and came back out with a box.

"Put this on," he said, holding it out to me. Then he blinked, "Er…I mean, Here's the clothing that I…suggest...you wear?" he rephrased, looking like it took a lot of effort.

I held back my laughter with a single sputter. "_I_ don't mind that you're bossy," I said, "Really."

He swept my face with his gaze, and deciding that I was being truthful, looked relieved.

"Good. Put the clothes on," he said.


	22. The Party Begins

The box Sebastian shoved into my hands was obviously from somewhere fancy. On the side was the name of an expensive boutique and it was wrapped with a lacy ribbon, and to be honest I felt bad just holding it. There are only so many thousand dollar gifts you can accept before you really start feeling like a gold digger.

But Sebastian just looked at me expectantly, and I knew it wasn't anything personal. I just couldn't make him look bad by association. And somehow that was worse.

In the box was my worst nightmare. To most people it probably would seem pretty harmless, at least, compared to the other things I'd faced in the past few months- vampires, hunters, but trust me, all that was nothing compared to what was waiting in the box.

A dress.

Not just any innocent old dress either. It was one of those dresses that seemed to be more holes than fabric- one of those dresses that says I'm going to get laid tonight, even if I have to flash people. I took one look at it and the little bit of red left in my cheeks drained away. Why in fuck's sake would Sebastian pick something like this?

I was afraid out of my mind to put it on, but I knew that eventually I'd no longer have a choice. I glanced at the clock, wondering when we were leaving. How much time did I have to procrastinate?

In the end, I stopped fighting with myself, and just put the damn thing on.

And although it was a bit tight, because for some reason Sebastian assumed I was a size zero, it really wasn't as bad as it looked in the box. I liked the ruby color anyway, and the fabric was silky and soft against my skin. It was pretty low cut, and almost completely backless, but I could ignore it… I hoped.

I put my hair up in a messy bun, because, being the fashionista I was, that was all I really knew how to do with it. The only successful thing I've ever done with a curling iron is send several people to the hospital.

I slipped on the high heels and went back out into the living room.

Sebastian was sitting on the couch, wearing a crisp new suit and drinking blood from a wine glass. I eyed the alcoholic blood warily wondering if he was planning on getting drunk again tonight.

He looked up when I noisily shut the door to my bedroom behind me.

"I trust everything fits?"

I almost nodded, but then stopped myself in light of the new no lying policy we had in place.

"More or less," I said, but that sounded so ungrateful.

"Thank you," I added as an afterthought.

I flattened the material of the dress self consciously, and when I looked up again Lacroix's eyes were far away. I wondered what he was thinking about.

"Yes," he said suddenly, snapping out of it, "You look lovely."

I could tell he wasn't lying. His eyes raked down my body in appreciation. I bit my lip.

"There's something else I'd like to give you," he said.

'Not more gifts,' I thought with dread. 'What more do I need? I already feel like a gold digger.'

He got up and quickly disappeared inside his room for a moment, and reappeared holding a small jewelry box. He opened it, and my jaw dropped in shock.

No it wasn't a wedding ring, and for those of you who were thinking that, you need to see a psychiatrist.

It was, however, the most expensive gift I'd ever received, and when Sebastian handed it to be, I nearly dropped it.

"I…I can't accept this," I shoved the box back in his direction, but he didn't move to take it.

He frowned at me, looking a bit like an upset child.

"Why not?"

Wasn't it obvious?

"This must have cost you like 30 grand," I said.

"Why does it matter?" He sounded genuinely confused.

I sighed. I shouldn't have expected him to understand humility.

"I just don't feel comfortable with you spending all this money on me," I tried to explain, "I feel like I owe you something in return. That's like how much most people spend on a car."

He looked skeptical.

Okay, not any car he'd buy.

"Do you not like the necklace? I can exchange it for something more to your tastes, if that's it," he said blankly.

"No it's beautiful."

He smiled, like the problem was solved, "Good then."

"It's just that…"

He raised his eyebrows at my further protests, looking impatient.

I decided there was no way in hell I was going to get out of wearing it.

"Nevermind," I sighed, " I love it. Thank you."

"Of course. May I?" he asked, holding the necklace up, intending to help me put it on.

I nodded.

Goosebumps traveled down my arms as his hands brushed the back of my neck. I couldn't help but lean back into his touch a bit. I hoped he didn't notice.

He hooked the little clasps together on the necklace, and then, as if the compulsion was contagious, he laid his cool hands on my bare shoulders.

A shiver went down my spine.

"Beautiful," he sighed, and his breath, just slightly warmer than the air around us prickled the hairs on the back on my neck. It was so close I was sure I was about to feel his lips… or maybe his fangs.

But instead he quickly pulled away.

"Are you ready to go?"

I nodded, dazed.

He smiled and held open the door for me, and we were off to meet the primogen.

* * *

I spent the next hour after that standing in the corner, talking to the baked goods. Particularly the frosted chocolate sugar coated sprinkled baked _things _that smelled absolutely delicious. Why there were baked goods at a vampire's dinner party, I had no idea. Wasn't there supposed to be blood fondue or something?

I stared down at the expensive red satin dress that doubled as a girdle it was so tight. My stomach was rolling emptily making embarrassing gurgling noises.

I sighed.

But not too deeply, considering that taking a full breath at that point probably would have ripped the dress in two. And that would've certainly drawn attention, which was what I was trying to avoid doing… which brings me back to the current situation- standing in the corner, talking to the baked goods.

Mainly I was cussing under my breath, and mainly it was at the cake. Not that I regularly start fights with cakes. The problem with the cake was that vampires didn't eat cake, and although I was basically as conspicuous as a piece of furniture at this party, if anyone saw me eat the cake, well… that would really take the cake, har har.

So I just stood there for a good five minutes, halfway convinced that I could pass as a ghoul, when something I didn't expect happened.

The cake spoke.

My first impression was not that it was the cake, that's crazy. I turned around , rather jerkily, looking for the owner of the voice I was hearing, but finding no one. I was alone. The nearest partygoers were at least 10 feet away, and the voice I was hearing was close, coming from the table. I leaned closer to the cake, squinting at it. Had I just imagined it?

"Eeeeeat meeee…"

I nearly jumped out of my skin, just barely stopping myself from screaming. 'Ohmygodohmygodohmygod I'm going fucking crazy,' played like a mantra over and over in my head.

And then the cake laughed, or rather, giggled girlishly, and in front of the cake a nosferatu appeared.

"You should have seen your face!" she said in between gasps.

I couldn't decide if I was more relieved that I hadn't actually gone insane yet, or pissed at myself for falling for that. I mean really…thinking cakes were speaking to me.

Her laughing died down, and she dabbed at her eyes, "Sorry," she said, "I couldn't help it. You were staring at that chocolate cake so intensely…"

I nodded quickly, "Its okay."

She had warm brown eyes, and a surprisingly good facial structure for a nosferatu. She was wearing a very shiny gold colored halter top dress. She seemed somewhere around my age, not that it means a whole lot in vampire years.

She shoved her hand at me, "My name's Molly."

I stared at her hand for a second, then cautiously shook with her, expecting a buzzer or something.

"Nice to meet you," I said, "I'm Juliet."

She grinned, "Are you actually gonna eat any of that cake?"

I shook my head. She looked back to the cake curiously.

"I'm not a ghoul," I explained quietly.

The playful grin dropped from her face. She inspected me skeptically.

"I don't get it," she said.

"It's a long story," I said warily.

Thankfully, she dropped it.

"Yeah, well, I'm not even supposed to be here," she admitted.

She glanced around the party nervously, but everyone was too busy talking to notice.

Well that would explain the disappearing act.

"How come?" I asked, interest piqued.

"It's a long story," she said with a sly smile.

She suddenly looked up, over my shoulder at something behind me.

"Crap," she said under her breath.

I heard a very familiar, very French voice that could only belong to Lacroix. I turned around to look at him, but he ignored me.

"Ah, Molly, I had no idea you were here. Did Gary join you, I wonder?" he paused to glance around the room. "Well I suppose he wouldn't show up even if he was." Sebastian sounded cool and collected but looked like he was holding back a sneer.

Molly shrugged, "Enough about me. How's it been going for you princey? Nice and cozy up there in Venture tower?"

Her voice oozed sarcasm.

"You know as well as I do that isn't the case," Sebastian replied.

The tension hiked up another notch as they stared each other down.

I'd began to wonder if it was too late to sneak back up to the room when she suddenly disappeared.

Sebastian inspected the air she was just in a moment ago, like he could still stare her down, even if he couldn't see her. Then he turned to me.

"What are you doing over by the ghouls?" he demanded.

I shrugged, glancing over at the cake, "It's a long story."


	23. This Party Sucks, Pun Not Intended

A/N: I'm officially shocked at the amount of attention this story is getting. I remember coming up with the original idea for this almost a year ago, thinking it was probably going to suck. Well, it did suck, but for some reason you guys overlooked that. Probably in the name of desperation.

* * *

The room the party was in must have originally been a ball room. A large chandelier hung in the middle of the room, and a band alternated between playing slow piano music and jazz on a raised stage. The ambiance was really impressive.

I'd been wondering about this party all evening. Why exactly had the primogen decided to host it? It was too festive to be a regular meeting. Was it just some annual celebration or what?

"What are we celebrating?" I asked when Sebastian handed me a glass of blood-champagne.

"Alaster Grout's death," he said under his breath.

I looked up at him in alarm, nearly dropping the glass.

He sipped his drink mildly, ignoring my reaction. I supposed this meant he'd had Grout killed. Not that I could say I was all that sad or anything. Grout was a pretty messed up guy what with his sick experiments and all.

"But, if anyone talks to you, you were told that we are celebrating the new Malkavian primogen's regime."

I nodded, "Who's the lucky guy?"

The prince snorted at that. "Perhaps you remember Dominic? From the mansion?"

I nodded again. The crazy guy with the stitches who'd tested my blood for me. How could I forget a face like that?

"Speaking of which, that abhorrent place is no more."

"What, the mansion? What'd you mean by that?"

Sebastian gave me a sidelong look, "There was a tragic fire," he said tonelessly.

"Oh," I bit my lip, "gotcha."

He downed the rest of his glass in one gulp.

"Have you drunken a sufficient enough amount to be ready for the honor of meeting the primogen of this city?"

"Have you?" I asked pointedly.

He didn't answer, just held out his arm, which I gratefully took, and we began making our way across the room.

* * *

It was obvious which of the vampires were the primogen. They were like the popular kids in a cafeteria full of wannabes. Only this wasn't high school. Thank god.

But these were vampires, which was almost as scary, and definitely more deadly, and I knew enough to keep my mouth shut without Lacroix telling me to.

They stood in a semi circle in the middle of the floor, talking amongst themselves, and every vampire at the party had one eye trained on them.

As we approached the primogen circle, they all seemed to sense our presence and looked up to greet Lacroix as one. It was pretty creepy.

Among them, Dominic, who cleaned up pretty well, along with 2 other guys, and a woman wearing a dress that made her look like a hooker. And that's saying a lot, considering the dress I was wearing.

Sebastian unhooked his arm from mine to shake hands with a vampire that was clearly the leader of the group.

" Sebastian! Good to see you made it," he said in a heavy New York accent.

I wondered how Sebastian felt about the man using his first name so informally. If it irritated him, he did a good job of hiding it.

"Mr. Bugaurdi," he responded simply.

I couldn't tell which bloodline Mr. Bugaurdi resided over, and he more or less ignored me, so I didn't ask. He had slicked back hair that showed his slightly receding hairline, and toted around an expensive looking walking cane which, I noted with some humor, he seemed to unconsciously swing around as he talked. Most of the other vampires stood a foot or two back to avoid being hit.

"Hey, sorry to hear about your little spat with the hunters, huh?" Bugaurdi said, fake sympathy oozing from his every pore.

"As am I," Sebastian said in a bored drawl.

Beside Bugaurdi stood a tall, beautiful woman who looked like she was at least half silicone, if you know what I mean. I don't know how a vampire could possibly have plastic surgery, but she had evidently found a way. She had a way too perfect nose, and lips, clearly outlined in a superficial cherry red.

Oh, and did I mention she was looking at Lacroix like she wanted to devour him whole?

She had the prettiest blue eyes too. I'd once heard a study that said blue eyed men were more attracted to blue eyed women than any other eye color.* So I felt then and there I was pretty much boned if it came down to any kind of competition between the two of us.

Sebastian turned to the beautiful woman next, who presented him with a dainty white hand. He promptly kissed it.

"Jenibelle," he said, and his voice was several shades huskier. And I knew, call it dumbasses intuition or whatever, that Sebastian had slept with her at some point in the past.

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

I guess that was a pretty dumb idea in a room full of vampires. I don't know how they smell fresh blood so easily, but suddenly every vampire within sniffing distance's eyes were on me. Including Sebastian's.

I swallowed. After a few tense seconds, I stuttered out, "Er…sorry."

Several of the vampires around me smirked. It wasn't hard to put two and two together.

And I wasn't going to deny it, I was a little jealous. Okay, I was very jealous, and the intensity of the feeling came as a surprise.

Maybe it shouldn't have, considering that the first time I met Eliza, when I thought she was Sebastian's girlfriend, I almost had a panic attack…and then later did. But I don't know, it just didn't seem rational, seeing as I didn't have a chance with him anyway. It seemed like the type of thing Sebastian himself would do, and we all know he's jealous to the point of near insanity.

'Oh man, Sebastian is going to KILL me', I thought, taking a gulp of the alcoholic blood to hide my blushing. I couldn't even begin to imagine the kinds of rumors that were going to spread now. The worst part was, most of them would probably be true, if they were about my pathetic feelings for my sire. The ones about me sleeping with him? Well, I could only dream at this point.

Sebastian let go of the pretty vampire's hand, doing his best to cover up what had just happened, trying to change the topic as quickly as possible.

But Jennibelle wasn't having that.

"Aren't you going to introduce us to your friend, Sebastian?" she asked, in a fake-sweet airy voice. She smiled wide, showing her fangs.

And I knew then and there that she wanted me dead.

Which terrified me, because when one of the primogen wants you dead, you aren't going to just get out of it.

"Of course," Sebastian said without missing a beat. He kind of looked like he was glaring at her, he was staring at her so hard, "This is Juliet."

He then in turn introduced each of the primogen. In addition to Mr. New York, and Jennibelle, there was an old man named Mr. Morris, who smiled kindly at me. He sort of reminded me of Mr. Rogers.

Then of course Dominic, who seemed to ignore all of us, staring at the floor, unresponsive to the party and my scrutiny. I wondered how he felt about Grout's death. Probably relief.

I couldn't help but think there must be some of the clan representatives missing, but I didn't feel any particular compulsion to seek them out after what had just happened. I figured I could embarrass myself in front of them some other time.

"Excuse me," I said quietly, "Can someone point me to the ladies room?"

Jennibelle practically jumped at the chance.

"I'll take you," She said in her sugary sweet voice.

Everyone exchanged I-don't-think-that's-such-a-good-idea looks, but no one knew how to say it aloud in a socially acceptable way. 'Uh please don't let Sebastian's insane ex go into the bathroom alone with Juliet and kill her?'

And then my salvation appeared right out of thin air.

That's right, Molly showed up.

"FINALLY! Juliet, I've been looking for you all evening!" I felt the nosferatu slip her arm in mine, and I'd never been so happy to hear such a gravelly voice.

She turned to Sebastian, "You don't mind if I borrow her just for a sec, do you?"

Sebastian glared at her for a moment, then seemed to remember our current situation.

"Fine," he snapped.

And then I was promptly dragged away.

* * *

*Yeah, true study.


	24. What The Party's Really About

A/N: I ended up writing this chapter for a pretty weird reason. My friend is trying to get me to play Lacrosse with her and every time she says something about it, it occurs to me anew that Lacrosse sounds a lot like Lacroix.

I don't know how to thank you guys for all the awesome reviews. Honestly if you guys hadn't kept reading this and showing so much enthusiasm for it, I wouldn't still be writing it. This story is just as much yours as it is mine.

* * *

I never thought I'd say this, but I was pretty happy to be literally dragged away from that party. Well, no, I take that back. There was my last birthday party where my mom still thought playing Duck, Duck, Goose was an appropriate game for 13 year olds.

The nosferatu's tight grip on my upper arm was beginning to ache though, and when I stopped daydreaming, I realized we were heading toward the door.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

Molly didn't answer, still maneuvering me through the crowds of vampires who glanced at us curiously. I wasn't sure if it was because they knew Molly, or were just nosy.

As we reached the doors to the ballroom, I bit my lip in indecision. Should I really go along with this? Yes she'd saved me from being killed by Sebastian's former whore, but how much did I really know about this girl? That Sebastian hated her. Reassuring.

I decided I at least had to know where she was taking me.

I nearly yanked the nosferatu into me when I stopped. She turned around to glare at me.

"What? You don't actually have to go to the bathroom, do you?" she lifted an eyebrow.

Did normal vampires piss? I had no idea, but the look she was giving me made me think they didn't and if I told her I did she would think I was some kind of freak vampire experiment gone horribly wrong. Which I could have very well been, for all I knew.

"No," I said, thinking it was kind of creepy that she'd known I'd used that line to get out of the circle of Primogen.

"Then what's your deal?" she asked. She seemed to remember she was still holding my arm, and let go.

"I just…" I sighed, "Where are you taking me? And how long have you been listening to my conversations?"

"I'm not some kind of stalker, if that's what you mean, " she looked mildly offended, "Besides listening is basically my entire job description."

I was starting to suspect listening to Lacroix specifically was her entire job description, but she didn't offer up any more information. I wondered if she'd been listening long enough to hear our conversation about him killing Grout, and if it would get him in trouble.

"I wasn't lying when I said I've been looking for you all evening," she said, "I do really need you to come with me. Gary wants to talk. And you can't talk if that bitch rips out your vocal chords, can you?"

"Wait a second… Gary?"

She grinned, her pointy teeth exceptionally white for a nosferatu, "Yeah you know him?"

"I don't think 'know' is the word I'd use," I said, "More like I've met him… once. And it wasn't all that pleasant."

The guy creeps me out quite frankly, but I refrained from saying that.

"Well we're kind of …smitten, so be nice. Come on, you owe me a favor."

Okay, first of all who uses the word smitten? Second I can't imagine that word ever describing Gary towards anyone in any situation. I guess it probably showed on my face because she giggled.

"Oh nobody ever believes it," she sighed, "come on."

I went willingly this time when she grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the heavy mahogany doors. She opened them with ease, and when I had to reach out and grab them before they crushed me, I struggled with their weight. I don't know if they were made that way on purpose for vampires, or if I was just wimpy or what, but I knew a human couldn't open them.

That's when I realized Molly was strong enough that she could have forced me to come with her even if I had refused.

The lights were off in the hallway, and when the large wooden doors clicked shut behind us they muffled the noise from the party. It was suddenly very quiet, and creepy. And I was alone with a vampire I hardly knew, but knew that Lacroix hated, letting her take me to see a vampire I hated.

She led me to the elevator, and pressed the up button with a mottled finger.

"Hey listen, you're not gonna tie me up and kill me, are you?" I asked, eyeing the dark hallway nervously.

She laughed, and shook her head, but I was half serious.

I supposed it didn't matter much. If I survived this encounter, I definitely wouldn't survive the next time I ran into Jannelle.

As always, there were no windows to look out of. I didn't think I'd want to see how high up we were anyway. I stared at the dark green wallpaper instead.

"Why does Lacroix hate you so much?" I asked, mostly just to fill the silence. I didn't know if she would lie to me or not, and I didn't want to be naive enough to think that just because she was nice, she didn't have some sort of agenda. I didn't think I'd take much stock in the answer, but then she said something that shocked me.

She smirked, "Gary embraced me without asking him first."

I studied her smug expression with interest.

"Didn't somebody just get killed for that?" I asked, referring to Elijah's sire.

"Yup."

"So what saved you?"

She gave me a level look, "I'm a nosferatu. I've been hiding all my afterlife."

I knew there was more to it than that, but before I could ask, the elevator dinged, and opened.

"Now this is where the real primogen meeting takes place," she said, grinning at me as we stepped into the elevator.

I had no idea what she meant by that.

* * *

She'd meant it literally.

The 20th floor was just a big meeting room with a long table. Seated at said table were a few vampires, talking quietly amongst themselves.

"Why are we here?" I whispered to Molly. I felt like I was intruding on some kind of secret ceremony. The lighting was even low, and candles lit the room.

Suddenly Gary looked up from the seat he was in. He was wearing a suit, like the one he'd had on last time I'd seen him, in the cafeteria of the Lacroix building.

"Ah, princess…" he said sarcastically, looking at me, "You decided to show up."

"Of course, my darling!" Molly said, grinning ear to ear.

"Not you." He growled and she frowned.

She pointed at me, "Why would you call her princess! That sounds like a term of endearment to me!"

One of the vampires sitting next to Gary rolled his eyes. Another coughed to cover up his laugh.

"I called her Princess," he hissed, "because she, my dear, is Lacroix's childe."

Molly's mouth dropped open.

"No way," She glanced at me, looking at me with new eyes, "She's way too nice to be Sebastian's childe."

Gary laughed horsely, "Of course she is."

I sighed. Watching them go back and forth like this was making me dizzy.

"Can we just get this over with?" I asked in a small voice. Then I regretted it, because every pair of eyes was suddenly on me.

"Of course," Gary said, folding his hands on the table, "A little birdy told me that you and Lacroix are blood bound."

_God, are rumors all these people care about? Well, I guess they are nosferatu_, I thought, glancing back and forth from Molly's stricken expression to the smug one on Gary.

"What's it to you?" I asked defensively.

"So it's true then?"

"I don't know," I admitted, "Lacroix conveniently omitted that part from my 'yay you're a vampire now!' speech."

"Did you exchange blood?" one of the other vampires asked. He was a grungy looking guy with the freakiest orange eyes I'd ever seen in my life. I quickly looked away.

I could sense each of the vampires was holding his breath, waiting for my answer. _It must be important for some reason_, I thought, _should I really tell them this?_

It was too late though, and I knew I wasn't getting out of it.

"Well… I gave him some of my blood," I said finally.

They all exchanged significant looks that I couldn't read.

"You know what this means don't you?" Molly asked, her eyes wide.

"No. Didn't we just go over this… the me not knowing anything part?" I asked, frustrated to be out of the loop.

"It means he's your bitch." Molly said.

Gary cackled loudly.

"I can't believe he let you do that," She shook her head. "I think I need to sit down."

She took a seat opposite of Gary.

"I guess I don't get it. What's the big deal?" I asked, suddenly aware that I was the only one standing. I shifted uncomfortably.

I didn't expect the reaction I got from her.

"What's the big deal?!" she sputtered, throwing her hands up in the air, and standing back up in the process,"It's a really big deal! It's like the biggest deal!"

The vampires all followed her with their eyes, some looking surprised, others amused.

"Molly," Gary said, his tone a warning, "Calm down."

She sat down obediently, but her eyes were still wide and she was still shaking like a buzzed out crack addict.

"Now listen carefully princess," Gary said, turning to me, "I rarely grace the surface with my gorgeous appearance for things that are 'not a big deal.'

"Okay…" I said, thinking the act of speaking to him had pretty much ruined sarcasm for me. Why was this nosferatu so irritating? "Could you just, you know, get to the point?"

"Oh I wouldn't be so hasty. It's a bit of a long story, you see. All starring your prince."

"Well, maybe you could just give me the cliffnotes version?"

He chuckled at that.

"As you wish," he said, "There is a plot against his life."


	25. It's Up To You

It took a moment for Gary's words to get through the deep fog of my sleep deprived brain, but when they did, I was fucking flabbergasted. And I know it's stupid to feel that way about someone who just almost died because hunters tried to kill him, but I couldn't help it. Two attempts at murder in one week? Come on. Who had that much of a grudge against Lacroix?

"Who is it this time?" I asked in the silence of the meeting room.

The vampires in the room all looked uncomfortable, like they didn't really want to be here, answering this question.

Molly was the one who decided to speak. She stood up and put a hand on my shoulder, trying to be comforting, but it only made me antsy. And impatient.

'_Spit it out,'_ I thought, _'I don't need sympathy. Sympathy won't save him.'_

"Juliet, we'll help in any way we can," she said in a low voice, "but we think the people responsible for this will probably succeed."

She dropped her hand from my shoulder.

My mind rejected the thought instantly, pushed away the beginnings of nausea and fear.

"Who is it?" I said, more forcefully this time, "The hunters again?"

"No," Gary answered, "Several of the anarchs."

I instantly thought of Nines and his crew, of course. But who else? Then a terrifying thought presented itself.

"Are they down stairs now? At the party?" I asked, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.

Gary shrugged, "Yes, I suppose Strauss is."

"Well then what the fuck are we doing up here?!" My voice was all squeaky and high. I sounded like a cartoon mouse.

"You need to calm down if you want this to work, Juliet," Molly said, and her hand was back on my arm, but tense now, as if threatening to restrain me if I tried to make a mad dash to the door.

"If we just storm down there screaming bloody murder, it will give them the upper hand. They'll know that he knows. And they'll know that we want to help him," Molly's voice was soft and reasoning.

"But what if they try to-"

Gary cut me off, "They won't. Not in here."

I sighed, deciding to believe him. It wasn't like I had any other choice anyway. Besides, the quicker this meeting was over, the quicker I could get back to Lacroix. I almost laughed aloud at that train of thought. What did I think? That I could protect him? I could barely protect myself.

"So you have a plan then?" I asked quietly, "Why don't you think it will work?"

"Our plan is foolproof. It's that pig headed Lacroix who will be responsible for his own demise, Princess," Gary said, but his eyes weren't as hard and unforgiving as they usually were, and his voice lacked some of its usual venom, "He won't go along with it."

"That's why we were hoping you could talk him into it," Molly said quietly beside me.

I couldn't help it. I started giggling madly. I mean, really. Me, talk Lacroix into doing something? There was probably a better chance of pigs flying… or even more likely, flying pig zombies attacking… or… you know.

Everyone stared at me like I was malkavian or something.

It slowly subsided, and I blinked the tears out of my eyes.

"Look, I couldn't talk Lacroix into sitting on a golden throne," I explained.

Gary made something that sounded halfway between a snort and a scoff.

"The only person I've ever seen him get into an argument with and lose is…" _Eliza._

I stopped myself from saying her name, looking around at all their interested faces. I didn't even know half the people in this room. Maybe they didn't know about Eliza. Maybe they didn't need to.

"…is…someone I know." I finished lamely.

The nosferatu pair looked like I'd just slapped them or something. Like I'd just taken away their infant child and said that I was a cannibal and I was going to eat him.

"What do you want in exchange for that information?" Gary's voice was hilariously strained. Was he gonna cry or what?

I shrugged, trying not to laugh, "Nothing I guess. I mean, I just have to talk to this person first and make sure its okay. I'm not trying to blackmail you or anything."

"There's a phone in the conference room," Molly informed me, a little too eagerly.

"I want a secure line," I said.

Gary and Molly exchanged looks, and I realized that they were completely planning on listening to my phone call. I silently thanked Lacroix for inadvertently teaching me to be paranoid.

Molly smiled sheepishly. Gary reached in his pocket, pulled something out, and tossed it to me. I promptly dropped it.

I picked it up from the floor. A cell phone.

"There you go, princess. My own line. Secure enough for you?"

I shrugged. It could still be traced, but I'd try not to say Eliza's name. The situation at hand was a little more pressing than waiting for a secure line.

I dialed in Eliza's number, silently thanking God that I remembered it.

It rang five times, then went to voicemail.

"Hi, you've reached—" I hung up quickly before the voicemail Eliza could reveal herself. How good were these vampires hearing? I didn't know but I didn't want to risk it.

The vampires stared at me.

"Uh, they didn't answer," I said.

Everyone sighed in disappointment, seemingly in unison.

"Then I suppose it's up to you."


	26. Dance With The Devil

"Woah, wait a minute here. Whatever it is you think I can convince Lacroix to do, you're wrong."

Gary sighed, and that was the only response I got from the entire room. The rest of the ensemble of vampires looked bored out of their minds. I'm pretty sure the one with the orange creepy eyes was playing tic tac toe on a napkin with one of guys beside him. Someone further down the meeting table had his head down.

Gary cleared his throat, and when nobody looked at him, he scraped his long jagged nosferatu claws across the table, resulting in a horrible screech that had the desired effect.

"Showoff," Molly said, rolling her eyes.

"Beckett," he addressed the orange eyed vampire beside him, looking pleased with himself.

Mister orange eyes glanced up from his tic tac toe game and smirked, "Gary."

"Why don't you and Molly fill Juliet in on her part of the plan while we finish up business here?"

Beckett got up from his seat.

"Wait, I haven't even agreed to-" I began.

I was rudely cut off by Gary again, "You can use the spare room down the hall."

I sighed and threw my arms up in exasperation. I felt like flipping Gary off, but decided that might not be smart.

* * *

Beckett's pretty tall, nothing compared to Gary's height, but he still stands a good foot and a half over me. And that smirk never leaves his face. Kind of imposing. It helped to have Molly around, hopping around like a hyper Chihuahua.

I followed them both to the spare room, which was smaller, and essentially looked like a high school classroom. There were desks and a chalkboard. It was weird, but then again, this entire building seemed like it could be located in an alternate dimension.

I positioned myself atop one of the desks, and Beckett leaned against the wall. Molly skipped (I'm serious, _skipped_) to the back of the room and began pulling things out of the cupboards. I glanced over at her, wondering if she was allowed to take anything she wanted, or if she cared.

"I will tell you everything I know about the situation, and what Gary has told me you must do. You seem so unnerved about it," Beckett said, leaning back and crossing his arms.

"Why do you guys care what happens to Lacroix anyway?" I asked, "I thought you hated him."

Beckett laughed in a way that somewhat reminded me of Lacroix. Like he was saying, 'hahaha you know nothing little peasant.' I'm sure the guy didn't mean to be condescending but it was the way he presented himself that made him seem like a big fat know it all.

"Well I can't speak for Gary, but although Lacroix can certainly be demanding, he isn't the worst ruler I've seen. What the Anarchs and Strauss, among others I'm sure, don't understand is that it really doesn't matter if they kill Lacroix. You see the Ventrue choose their predecessors long before their deaths. Trust me, he has it all figured out. If he died, someone would take his place within a matter of weeks."

"But what about all that stuff about California being an Anarch Free-State?" I asked, "Don't you think the Anarchs could kill the next guy in line too?"

Beckett shrugged, "I'm not well versed in California's past. I'm just here to learn as much as I can about the sarcophagus, which I cannot do if they blow it up."

I quirked a brow. What did this whole mess have to do with blowing up the Sarcophagus? Before I could ask, Molly appeared in front of us with wine glasses and a bottle.

"Do you guys want some wine?" she asked.

I tried to hide the fact that it still scared the shit out of me when vampires used obfuscate, but by the way she was smiling, I knew she could tell and it amused her to no end.

"Sure," I said, "I need a drink."

"No, but thank you," Beckett said.

Molly handed me a glass filled with red liquid. I downed it all at once like a shot. The other two stared at me like I'd just broken some kind of fragile etiquette. I shrugged. Fuck etiquette.

"Ah, anyway," Becket said, readjusting his glasses, "As I was saying, the Anarchs, most notably Jack and Nines have arranged for the Ankarian Sarcophagus to be… meddled with, you could say."

"They put a bomb in it!" Molly said before I could ask. Her brown eyes were wide and dramatic. I wondered, not for the first time that night, if she was on crack.

"Interestingly enough they have also recruited Strauss, who is willing to help them kill Lacroix to uphold the masquerade. Ironic, isn't it? The Anarchs and Strauss would ordinarily not be on the same side due to their different views on the masquerade, but they're willing to put their differences aside…What is that saying? The enemy of my enemy is my friend?"

"Uh…sure," I said, "So how do we stop this all from happening?"

"Gary didn't tell us the details," Beckett said with a sigh.

"Guess we aren't important enough," Molly sneered. I could tell the lack of knowledge bothered her.

"You're supposed to convince Lacroix to get out of the country. Gary has connections with the Kuei-jin. Apparently one of them owes him a favor because somehow he got a shapeshifter to act as Lacroix's double in case something goes wrong," Beckett explained.

"That's it? Lacroix's never going to agree to that. He'll just have the sarcophagus sent wherever he goes," I said.

Molly and Becket exchanged concerned looks.

"Besides, that doesn't solve the fact that the Anarchs are just going to try again. What's Gary going to do? Kill the Anarchs?"

"Look, we don't know all the details, okay? You wanna save your pansy ass of a prince, get him the fuck away from here. Take him to France or England or some pansy place like that where he won't get hurt by the big bad anarchs. That's all we can do for you," Molly said, her general dislike of Lacroix (and lack of knowledge about world history) apparent by her colorful choice of words.

I sighed, resigning myself to my fate, "Alright, I'll talk to Lacroix, but I can't promise you he'll agree to leave."

* * *

The rest of the party sucked after that. Not that it didn't before, but I guess learning about the possible death of someone kind of ruins the whole celebratory mood. It was nearly two in the morning before I could slip away and go back down to the ballroom.

Everything seemed less shiny, even the waxed floors and the golden chandlers. Even the soothing jazz music couldn't do anything for my mood.

Sebastian was still downstairs when I caught up with him. Surprisingly he wasn't drunk yet, although he did look a bit tense as he talked to the other members of the high elite.

His ex girlfriend whose name I could neither pronounce nor remember was nowhere to be found. I glanced around in paranoia more than once, as if she might suddenly pop up and stab me from behind.

I stood beside him without saying anything until he was finished with his conversation with a fat vampire who reminded me of the monopoly guy. As I looked around, I noticed most everyone had left, and the ones still around were drunk, or dancing to some shitty violin music. I wondered how long this party would last. If it was going on until dawn, you could count me out. I eyed Lacroix speculatively, wondering if he would he give me the key to our room.

Sebastian seemed tired. There were dark circles under his eyes that either had just recently shown up or I'd never noticed before. Maybe he had a hangover from last night. Did vampires get hangovers? He was paler too. His usual deathly white skin was now more of a sickly gray pallor.

I thought for a minute he hadn't noticed me standing there because he pinched the bridge of his nose, like he was trying to get rid of a headache. But then he turned to me with a questioning look, "What did Gary want?"

I could feel my face give away my surprise. How did he know I'd seen Gary? I'd left with Molly. I wondered if he had some inkling of what was going on.

"Uh... nothing," I said unconvincingly. Have I mentioned how bad of a liar I am?

He looked kind of pissed, and suddenly I was very aware that he could easily dominate me into telling him whatever he wanted to know. And I understood why Gary was keeping his plans to himself.

Sebastian opened his mouth, and I quickly looked away.

"Please don't," I said in a low voice, "I'll tell you."

He looked a little surprised at my reaction to possibly being dominated.

"Come then, " he took my upper arm and led me toward the patrons on dance floor.

I visibly paled. "Uh.. I don't think this is such a good idea," I protested, "When I dance people tend to go to the hospital as a result."

Lacroix smirked, and continued half dragging me toward the dancers, "I doubt there is anything you could do that would effect the kindred in this room the slightest."

He seemed to be enjoying my misery.

"You will be fine," he reiterated, "and it will be an acceptable and reasonably private place for us to talk."

"Oh."

The current song ended and we stepped in for the next one, which was thankfully slow and murderously romantic.

Sebastian placed my hands where they should be on his shoulders and I jumped when he put his on my hips. I mean, I knew that's where they were supposed to be, but it was like we had both just come out of a really big dryer and were full of static. I assumed it was just my imagination.

Then we began moving and Sebastian did a good job of leading. Eventually I didn't have to think about it.

"Do I need to ask again what Gary wanted?" he asked.

I hated inquisitive dancing. There was nowhere else to look but at Sebastian. This made lying 200 times harder.

"He just wanted to meet the prince's fabled childe," I said.

Sebastian looked amused, "I seriously doubt that."

"He... gave me some advice too."

"Oh really?"

I bit my lip, "He said to try and convince you to leave the country."

Sebastian was so shocked he actually stopped dancing for a second.

I cleared my throat and he began again, at the exact right step. The guys got skills.

"Did he say why?"

"No," I lied, "Just that it would probably be a good idea."

"Hm..."

He was silent for the rest of the dance, deep in thought. He didn't ask any other questions.

When the song ended, we parted, and I followed Sebastian off the dance floor.

* * *

The party began winding down after that. People started getting really drunk and passing out, and almost all of the sober people had already left. Apparently there was a rumor going around that somebody had put blood in the emergency sprinklers, so all the drunk people were trying to start fires to set them off. Sebastian rolled his eyes and decided it was high time we left. I kinda wanted to see if it'd work.

In the elevator I realized how tired I was. I could hardly keep my eyes open. My feet hurt from wearing heels all night. I leaned against the side of the elevator and closed my eyes.


	27. Dampyr

"Among some of the kindred, legends of these odd half-breeds exist. Many consider it the stuff of legends and pop media, and look to their own irrelevant and only indifferently functional genitalia as evidence…its all clouds, swamp gas and weather balloons. Most of the time."

The Wicked Dead

* * *

The next morning, when I woke up, my stomach was growling, and I could smell food.

Good old human food, like the kind I used to eat before I met Lacroix. Although, to be perfectly honest, I've always been a picky eater.

The smell was so strong, I could almost taste it, and I thought I was having a dream about it because when I groggily sat up in bed, I could _still_ smell it. Bacon.

Then it occurred to me that maybe someone was cooking something. Like, maybe a ghoul had come over. Maybe even Mercurio.

I yawned. Today would be fun then—

Wait a minute.

I blinked, as the vibrant color of my skin tight dress caught my eye and I remembered last night.

How did I get to bed? I had no idea. All I remembered was the elevator. Had I seriously passed out in the elevator?

I looked at the clock. It was nearly one in the afternoon. Where would Lacroix be at a time like this? What did vampires do before sunset? Pace? Watch sitcoms?

I slipped out of the dress. Well okay, I struggled to get it off without ripping it in two, then put on the shirt I'd stolen from Lacroix the day before yesterday, still the only clothes the thoughtful bastard had given me.

I thought it'd be pretty embarrassing for Mercurio (or whoever was out there) to see me half naked but hey, more incentive for Lacroix to get me something to wear. When I came out of my room though, Mercurio wasn't there.

It was just Lacroix standing at the stove cooking bacon. I kid you not.

I stood there, trying not to be suspiciously freaked out, but still pretty freaked out.

"Uh…whats going on?" I asked in a croaky morning voice. I know, I'm incredibly sexy.

Lacroix glanced up. He had a determined look on his face, like he was in the middle of a particularly draining and difficult task. "Oh good, you're awake," he said.

He got a plate, put some mouthwatering bacon on it, opened the oven door and put a stack of pancakes on it, then set it down on the island counter.

I looked around for whomever the food was supposed to be for, and quickly became aware that there was no one but us in the hotel room.

Sebastian was staring at me.

"Have a seat," he said, waving to the chair in front of the food.

I stared at the chair for a good thirty seconds before moving forward. My mind was on overdrive coming up with explanations for this, but none of them seemed plausible. I decided to first ask the question at the forefront of my mind.

"How do you know how to make human food?" I asked, and sat in the chair.

Sebastian had turned around, clanging around in the drawer for something. He pulled out a fork and set it down next to the plate.

"Over the years, I've found it to be a useful skill in pretending to be human."

Couldn't argue with that. It would be pretty strange if somebody didn't know how to use a stove.

"You could always just say you were Amish." I suggested.

He smirked, so I guessed he found that amusing.

But then he'd have to wear ugly clothes and grow a beard, and that would bring his hotness level down a notch or so. I didn't say that aloud for obvious reasons.

"By the time Eliza was old enough to be embraced, I'd made her many meals anyway," he sighed, like just the thought of all that manual labor made him tired.

"I always thought she was older than you," I admitted, eyeing the food, but putting it aside for a moment. Sebastian almost never volunteered information about himself and I was completely prepared to squeegee it out of him.

"I didn't know that you had to take care of her either. How old was she?"

He looked mildly surprised that I was so interested, "Very young. Four summers, perhaps."

I instantly thought of Sebastian carrying around a little four year old human Eliza and awwed. Not aloud of course. I'm not that stupid.

Then I remembered all the responsibilities that come with caring for a four year old, and I realized how draining that must have been, for a vampire nonetheless, and my mouth sped way ahead of my brain.

"Why couldn't your parents take care of her?"

I regretted it the instant I asked. His face hardened, and he looked too mature for his age. Like someone who'd lived long enough to see things no normal person should be able to.

"They were dead by then," he said bluntly.

"Oh, right. Sorry," I said. I swallowed and looked at the counter top, and tried to let the thoughts of its pretty blue speckled color distract me. Unfortunately for me, I don't have ADD. I thought it was pretty insensitive of me to ask.

"My parents died when I was young too," I said quietly, "I don't remember anything about them."

When I realized what I'd just said, I snapped my mouth shut. I usually didn't share that with people. It was kind of one of those things that you told people and afterward they immediately looked at you differently, like you needed help. I hated that. I didn't need anyone to pity me.

Lacroix stared at me for a long time, but didn't say anything.

I guessed we were done talking about it, and some awkward silence passed. Then of all things, he murmured, "Eat."

He gestured to the food on the plate, and I reluctantly looked down at it.

I couldn't find a way to express how confused I was at this simple command, so I just kind of sat there, and looked at him with an expression that might suggest my mind was about to implode.

It was like he'd asked me to go for a walk with him out in the park at noon so we could burn to a crisp in the sun. Or, on human terms, like he'd asked me to drink some lighter fluid. I mean, it wasn't quite as lethal as that, but it was kind of an unspoken vampire rule that you didn't eat human food. I'd seen no one eat since I became one, and the few times I'd tried it had made me sick. But then again, blood had made me sick too.

"I know that you haven't been eating," he said unhelpfully. He leaned back on the counter, apparently resigning himself to the fact that he'd be here for a while.

"Uh, yeah," I said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Which it was.

Lacroix glared a bit, and I realized how bratty I sounded and tried to back up with wild hand motions, "I mean_, you_ don't eat."

"That's different," he said, looking rather intensely at the bacon on my plate, "You need to eat."

"What? Why? Don't you think that's a little weird? For me to eat and not heal?" I thrust my hand in his face, which was still healing from its contact with the vampire hunter's bullets of doom.

"Yes, it is," He answered with an irritated sigh, "However, it is quite apparent to me that you need human food, so eat."

"Not until you tell me whats going on," I said excited at the possibility that he could know. I'd been trying to figure this thing out for months, and dammit, he was going to tell me.

"_You will eat,"_ he said, lacing his voice with dominating power.

I glared at him and picked up the fork, taking a bite of pancake. Without syrup, since I couldn't control my arm anymore. I didn't have a knife to cut a little piece of it off either so I had to just take bites out of the whole thing, which I'd stabbed on the tip of my fork like a big lollypop-pancake. He obviously didn't understand how pancakes were normally eaten.

The sight seemed to placate him a bit.

"Juliet, I have lied to you."

I stared at him, and reluctantly took another bite out of the pancake.

"I suppose you had to find out at some point, but I was hoping to delay it. After you passed out last night in the elevator, I realized I had no more time."

I felt like saying spit it out already, but I couldn't due to the fact that my mouth was full of pancake.

"In all likelihood, you are not a vampire" he said finally.

I dropped my fork. It clattered to the floor in an appropriately dramatic way.

"What?" I asked the instant I swallowed. Unfortunately my brain apparently didn't need a fork. My hand offered me a piece of bacon instead of the pancake, and it took a lot of effort to make myself stop trying to eat.

I immediately thought sick social experiment. You know, like Lacroix and a whole bunch of other assholes decide to take this human chick, tell her she's a vampire, and see if she'll figure it out or go insane. And that made me want to cry and punch somebody at the same time.

Sebastian was beginning to look concerned. And he should be, I thought. I looked at my hands, balled into fists. I was seriously going to punch him if this was some joke. If I would have thought harder about it, I wouldn't have even considered it. But as it was, shock clouded my judgment.

I glared so hard and intensely, I thought I might telepathically hurt him. That he could lie to me about something like that was so utterly fucked up_. _I mean, you don't lie to people about things like if they're a member of the undead or not. It's kind of, you know, only life changing information. Not even mentioning the fact that I'd spent oh, just a few months, nearly losing my mind mourning my lack of humanity.

I finally took a bite of the bacon, and it broke the rather awkward silence. I didn't even like the stupid bacon but it was really tiring trying not to eat when I'd just been dominated.

Sebastian followed the motion, and then blinked, realizing my struggle. "You may stop eating."

Oh why thank you, I thought sarcastically.

"Am I even your childe?" I asked in a deadpan voice.

He opened his mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again.

"It is doubtful," he said finally, "I suppose it doesn't matter anymore does it? Is that really why you are here?"

He took a few steps forward, stopped leaning against the counter, and folded his arms.

"I don't know why I'm here," I said quietly.

"I think you do," he said.

I glared at him again, "Well I think asking me to understand my motives when I don't even know who or what I am is pretty unrealistic."

There was another awkward silence and Lacroix nodded, apparently agreeing.

"You are likely a dampyr."

"I don't understand," I said, "You turned me into a vampire in the alleyway behind my work."

"I know nothing more," he admitted. He averted his eyes. "I found you in the alleyway by accident. I was looking for an easy target. I had sustained substantial injury. I was desperate. I had not had the need to take blood from a human for many years. It was... difficult," he winced, as if he'd just admitted some horrible fault.

Somehow, recounting the past few weeks, the substantial injury part didn't surprise me. Lacroix wasn't exactly the most popular guy.

"I drew from you, and after, you began convulsing. I thought I had taken too much and knew you were dying. I knew I could never kill an innocent human.. it was...unfitting for someone of my status to do so. It could result in expulsion from the city, leaving me stripped of my title. I thought I did what I had to to save your life." Here he paused to gauge my reaction, his normally impassive cold eyes studying me in a much more gentle way. He had an expression on his face I had very rarely seen him use.

"I began to notice strange things, like your lack of consumption of blood. You seemed to be able to go so long without it. I remembered a tale I had heard long ago of these certainly mythical creatures, hybrids of humans and vampires," he scoffed, shaking his head.

Hybrids of humans and vampires. How was that possible, I wondered. I was about to ask, but he beat me to the punch.

"Vampires have no reproductive powers. Still, there are ways around that. Embracing a woman late in pregnancy sometimes does not kill the child, and some of the thin-blooded have reported fertility.

In any case, I found out that Grout had some experience with this interesting phenomenon. He told me that dampyrs are almost certainly always orphans, as the vessel that carries them is not meant to give birth. They are human-looking until some catastrophic event eases them from their humanity. If they do not know what is going on, they generally starve. They heal slowly... Does any of this sound familiar to you?"

His question was most certainly sarcastic, but he said it softly.

I nodded, stunned. I remembered the book at Grout's place, and hoped that perhaps it had somehow survived the fire. Maybe I could glean some more understanding from it. I still felt a bit like a science experiment, and it bothered me that Lacroix seemed to find me interesting instead of being as disturbed as I was.

"So you think the 'catastrophic event' was you draining me dry?" I asked him.

"Perhaps," he said, "It was a near-death experience after all."

"Well, that sucks," I said quietly.

I had a lot to think about after that. Sebastian must have sensed my need for space because he left me alone in the kitchen to ponder things.

I wondered if it was even true. Maybe there was another possibility. Still, the dampyr explanation seemed to fit so well.

I wondered if I would be able to go out in sunlight.

I wondered if I would live as long as normal vampires, or just have the lifespan of a ghoul.

Mostly, though, I wondered if I would die. Would I ever be able to eat anything again without vomiting? I didn't let Sebastian see as I, as quiet as anyone could, threw up the pancakes and bacon I'd eaten.

Dampyr, I thought as I was retching, What a fucking joke.

* * *

The End (Yes I'm serious. Go read part two.)


End file.
